A Presidential Election
by ScandalMania
Summary: This is Part II of a story that began with 'A Presidential Divorce'. Now the Fixer and the Leader of the Free World are living in the White House, but will OLITZ and the kids get to be the First Family of the United States...
1. State Of The Union

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"You can't talk about gun control in the State of the Union address."

Fitz levelled a glance at Cyrus and the other advisors in the room. "Mellie was shot by a 14-year-old boy."

"Whose dad owned a gun shop."

"The kid had keys to his dad's gun shop. And let's not talk about the assassin's website because that's a whole other conversation."

"Neither of which can be even hinted at in the State of the Union address. What the American Public needs is a plan of action. We need hope, we need enthusiasm; we don't people hoarding guns in their basement, like their stocking up on canned beans just before a hurricane, fearing you'll repeal their second amendment rights."

* * *

After the advisors had left, and in the few minutes he had before meeting with the Treasury Secretary, Fitz made a call.

"It sounds like you're in a blizzard." He smiled when she answered immediately; his weary frown disappearing.

"It's windy and my nose is frozen. Can you hear me okay?"

"I love when you yell sweet nothings in my ear, Livvie."

"_Icy cold_ sweet nothings, Mr President… What's happened?"

"They don't want gun control in the State of the Union address."

"Didn't they read the media reports about the estimated 28,600 Americans killed by guns since the Sandy Hook school shooting in Newtown?"

"Those stories were based on 2010 data collected from the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention. I handed out copies of the report, and pointed to the fact that the extrapolated figures include the 12 people killed in the Navy Yard right here in DC."

"Did you mention that other issue?"

"What other issue?"

"Race. More whites kill themselves with a gun, but for every African American who commits suicide with a gun, five more are likely to get shot by someone else."

"Livvie, I need a non-controversial platform to get those controversial points across."

"You'll have to talk about Mellie."

"I don't want to talk about Mellie."

"You have to. You and the kids have lost a wife and a mother. She's your platform. People won't attack a grieving husband."

"I'm not grieving. I'm sorry she died the way she did, but…"

"But you _are_ sorry."

His sigh rumbled down the phone. Then he pushed the point that had him frowning again. "…Have you changed your mind about being there?"

"I haven't changed my mind, Fitz, it's not a good idea."

* * *

Family dinners at the White House had become chaotic since the inclusion of several furry, tail-wagging 'Grants', adopted from the animal shelter after Christmas.

"You can only get one dog," Fitz had told the children.

So they got four. Because no one could walk away with just one dog, and Jerry sealed the deal by pointing out that the British Queen had 2 corgis and 2 dorgis all to herself, whereas the Grant children were only getting one each, including Peter who'd made his choice before flying home to his parents.

There was Rex, the golden retriever who had become Jerry's shadow; Poppy, a shorkie who loved to cuddle with Karen; a black Labrador called Daisy who let Teddy use her for a pillow and Peter's choice had been a pug called Darth who liked to watch television.

The noise of kids and dogs was no different at the table than it was most nights, and Karen had to yell across the table to give Olivia the news: "Daddy said we could go see him speak at the State of the Union, Mom."

"It's on pretty late," Olivia demurred, glancing from Karen's excited face to Fitz.

He shrugged. "It's just one night, on a Saturday; Karen and Jerry can sleep in the next day."

"Can I have my phone on in there or do I have to switch it off like at the cinema? I don't want to doze off during the boring parts of your speech," Jerry teased.

"There'll be no boring parts."

"I'll take my phone anyway," Jerry muttered, sneaking another piece of roast beef to the dogs waiting patiently under the table.

Fitz caught Olivia's grin, which froze when Karen asked, "Do you know what you're going to wear, Mom?"

* * *

She was mad. He could tell she was mad from the way she marched into their bedroom after they'd said goodnight to the kids.

"Livvie…"

"You told them I was going?" She swung round to glare at him, hands on hips.

"They assumed and I didn't disagree."

"So you are using the kids to change my mind?!"

Fitz eased her stiff, resisting figure into his arms. "You're not my secret anymore, Livvie. You're my fiancée and soon-to-be-wife. It's time to come out of the shadows."

He pressed his lips gently to hers. When she didn't push him away, he slipped his tongue in for a sweet taste of her.

"We're not done," she mumbled, a little huskily.

"No, we're just starting," He growled, pulling her tight against him.

"I'm so angry..." she moaned, her lashes fluttering closed as he bent low and pressed his lips into her skin, just below her ear.

"I deserve every punishment," he encouraged, sliding his hands under her thick sweater.

She drew back, frowning.

He grinned.

* * *

"You can't write about racketeering by Corporate America."

Cyrus shook his head at the notations Fitz had made to the speech. They were meeting yet again to go over his speech in an advisor's office in the West Wing.

"I'm talking about America's working poor and the socio-economic harm it is doing to us as a nation."

"The working poor don't make campaign donations with the same largesse as the Wall Street thugs and free market thieves. The working poor will have to keep buying into the American dream that anyone can make it if they work hard enough. "

"They're working, Cy, but there's a chasm between the rich and the poor in this country that government is inadequate to fill."

"We don't _fill_ it, we just pretend it doesn't exist."

* * *

"I like this," Olivia chuckled as she read through the final draft, lying on her stomach on the bed beside Fitz.

Having watched her face throughout from his vantage point on the pillows, he smiled.

"I like this," he said huskily, reaching out to trace the crease on her brow, the smooth slope of her nose and the soft plumpness of her lips.

She kissed the roving fingertip, then looked down at his hips and gave a naughty smile.

He grinned, unrepentant, watching her place the papers on the night table before shifting to lie on top of him. "This is how I always imagined we'd be as a couple," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.

"This is how we were at Camp David, writing your first ever SOTU speech." She kissed the corners of his smiling mouth.

"This is better than Camp David. Everyone knows about us, we don't have to hide."

She paused. "Just because they know, doesn't mean they accept."

"Livvie, they do, they will, they have to," He kissed her at each point, then said huskily, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"What do you want to _talk _about?" She snuffled a laugh.

"Talk dirty to me," he ordered, smoothing his hands over the soft silk of her skin.

"The polar ice caps have melted faster in the past 20 years than in the last 10,000," she breathed in his ear, and he groaned feeling his blood heat with lust.

* * *

On the morning of his State of the Union address to the Joint Session of Congress, Fitz looked out the bedroom window and sighed heavily at the sight of the North Lawn under a thick blanket of snow. Even as he watched, the flakes fell thick and fast.

"You'll need to wear something warm tonight, like you're heading for a Polar expedition."

He turned from the window to walk over to Olivia, standing in front of the mirror.

She didn't respond.

"What's wrong?" His arms slid around her waist as she fixed the pearl ear stud in her left ear.

"Nothing's wrong," she murmured, her gaze meeting his for a split second in the mirror before gliding away.

He turned her round to face him. "Something's wrong."

"Everything is fine." She cupped his face in her hands. "Ready for tonight?"

"I'm ready." He studied her intently. "Are you?"

She dropped her hands and stepped into her shoes. Then she reached for one of the ties that he'd draped on the back of a chair. "Wear the burgundy and black stripe." She stroked a hand over the smooth silk, then picked up her jacket.

"Let me," he murmured, helping her into it. "Have you decided what you're wearing tonight?"

She stared down at his hands, on the buttons of her jacket. "Not yet."

He lifted her chin. "Liv, it's tonight."

"I know it's tonight." She pushed his hand away and did up the rest of the buttons before moving away to take her coat.

"Did you remember to get the hair and make-up people cleared with security?"

She paused, "I do my own hair and make-up."

"Mellie always had professional hair and make-up done for the State of the Union address."

"I'm not Mellie."

"I know you're not Mellie. But I've got a budget for that sort of thing."

She glared at him. "I don't need a budget. I can afford my own hair and make-up people, thank you."

With that she'd left the room, closing the door with a decisive click, which had Fitz wondering what just happened.

* * *

He was no nearer to an understanding when he called her later that evening.

"Where are you?"

"I'm…uh…meeting with a client... I'll be home soon."

"Define soon... I'll be giving the State of the Union address in a couple of hours."

"I might not be able to make it in time for that, Fitz, I—"

He didn't wait for her to finish. He disconnected the call.

She called him right back. "You hung up on me! You don't hang up on me, Fitz!" And she hung up on him before he'd said a single word in response.

About to let out a curse, his faze fell on Karen and Jerry seated on the bed, already dressed for the night. Only Teddy, on Jerry's lap, was in his PJs ready to be tucked in his cot in the nursery. Fitz quickly changed the curse to a gusty sigh.

"What's going on, Dad? Isn't Mom coming?"

"She's held up."

"So she's not going?" Karen looked crestfallen.

Fitz gave a wry smile. "She's going, pumpkin. I just need to do a little convincing."

"If she doesn't want to go, she shouldn't have to go, Dad," Jerry frowned.

"Jerry, take your brother to Marta, and go wait in your rooms. I'll come fetch you when Mom gets here."

He waited until the kids left, then went to the closet. He rifled through her selection of mostly pants, tops and jackets until he paused, seeing the white and black lace dress she'd worn on the day of his inauguration. Without hesitation, he plucked it off the rail, still in its protective wrapper.

He inspected her shoes, and picked up a pair of shiny black heels, then remembering the snow that was lying thick on the ground, he dropped the heels and picked up a pair of knee-high fleece-lined leather boots. Then he called Tom.

* * *

Olivia was alone in her office when he got there.

She looked up from the papers on her desk when the agents walked in, then her eyes widened as she saw him.

"What are you doing here?" She stood as he closed the door to her office behind him. "I locked the elevator gate. How did you—"

"Huck let me in. He's waiting downstairs, guarding the place until you go home."

Olivia averted her gaze. "You shouldn't be here. You should be getting ready for tonight."

"I am. I am getting ready to give this year's State of the Union address in the presence of my fiancée, in what will be our first public appearance as a couple."

She folded her arms across her chest as her gaze came flying back to meet his. "I can't. It doesn't feel right to be sitting in the First Lady's box when I'm not the First Lady."

"Livvie, you're my First Lady. I want you there."

"But the public won't be ready for me to take Mellie's place. Not yet."

"The kids will be there."

"They have that right. They're your kids and she was their mother. It's hasn't even been a month since she's been gone."

"Livvie, I don't have time to argue about this. Either you go with me or I'll be a no-show for the SOTU address tonight."

"Fitz!"

Ignoring her irate gaze, he held up the clothes in his arms. "I even brought you something to wear."

He saw her face change when she caught sight of the dress. Her expression softened and her voice was husky as she asked, "You chose that dress?"

"Yeah. And I brought your boots."

She gasped a laugh, "My black leather boots. They don't really go with that dress."

"It's snowing outside."

Her arms dropped to her sides and she looked at him helplessly. "I hate how you do this – change my mind when I've decided against something."

"I love you. Now get dressed."

* * *

Twenty minutes later she sat cuddled within his arm as they drove back to The White House.

"I love how you look in that dress," he whispered, their hands linked on the lace, through the opening of her coat.

"I remember that you loved how I looked without it too."

He nuzzled her nose as they exchanged a husky chuckle. "Maybe after the State of the Union Address, we can go back to my office and re-enact that scene."

"The kids will be with us."

"We can put them to bed and then go down memory lane."

She reached up to straighten his tie. "You need to focus on your speech, not what comes after."

"Pardon the pun."

She blushed. "Behave, Mister."

Just then his phone rang and Olivia reached into his jacket pocket and took it out, seeing the caller ID, Fitz sighed and put the phone on speaker.

"Yes, Cy?"

"You are not at the White House. Why are you not at the White House? Do you know what day this is?"

"Yes, I checked the calendar. It January 11th. And I'm on my way to the White House with my most distinguished guest for tonight's speech." Fitz smiled at Olivia, then grinned at Cy's exasperated response.

"Perfect. Just perfect. Here I am putting out the fires that Sally Langston is lighting all over the place, while you go play fetch."

"Thank you," Fitz said mildly, adding after a pause. "Good job."

There was a distinct curse as Cyrus ended the call.

* * *

Just after 9 that evening, Fitz nodded to the Sergeant at Arms who announced loudly for all to hear, "Mr Speaker, the President of the United States."

As applause and cheers broke out, Fitz walked into the chamber of the House of Representatives, with the Congressional Escort Committee following at his heels. He stopped often to shake hands, exchange hugs and receive condolences from members of Congress from both the Senate and House of Reps.

Briefly, he paused to search the gallery above, where the public and media were packed to get a bird's eye view of the proceedings. Then smiled at the sight of Olivia standing with Karen, who waved, and Jerry, who grinned and held up his phone. Only Olivia didn't smile or wave, but her gaze remained fixed on him, and his step felt lighter as he strode towards the Speaker's rostrum.

Once behind the House Clerk's desk and after he had handed the manila envelopes, containing copies of his speech, to Sally Langston and the speaker of the house, Fitz faced his audience and began speaking,

"Mr Speaker, Madam Vice President, Members of Congress, distinguished guests and fellow Americans, each of us today has a reason to be grateful that we have survived another year. A tough year. A year of violence and of death but also of hope, of courage and great fortitude.

"The courage and fortitude of our service men and women who keep this country safe on our shores and on foreign soil; the courage and fortitude of our aid workers who care for the sick, the injured and the hungry at great risk to their own lives; the courage and fortitude of every man and woman who strives hard every day to make this country great in achieving the American Dream.

"Yet we need to do more. We can do more. Just as each American strives to achieve his or her dreams, so too must we, the representatives of our people, strive to make those dreams achievable. We, in government, must work together for our electorates. I make that commitment to everyone in my electorate, in all states and territories of this great nation of ours. I make that commitment irrespective of whether you have voted for me or not, I make that commitment because every American must have the opportunity to make their dream come true. I make this commitment to the American people and on their behalf, I ask this commitment of each one of you in this chamber today.

"I ask this of you because our economy grew by 4.1 per cent in the last quarter, above expectations, but we still have over 50 million people living in poverty. I ask this of you because unemployment dropped in 45 states and the District of Columbia, but we still have 4 million people who have been unemployed for 6 months or more. I ask this of you because college applications are increasing for fewer admissions and more college students are dropping out before graduation, but of greater concern is that two thirds of college graduates now share a national student debt burden over a trillion dollars, that's 6 per cent of our overall Federal debt.

"Now in the spirit of true bi-partisanship I would like to remind you that 70 years ago today, another President addressed this nation and spoke of a Second Bill of Rights – an Economic Bill of Rights to ensure equality and the pursuit of happiness. That President was Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He was a Democrat with a vision for social progress that I as a Republican President believe in, and I believe it is well past time we made those rights a reality…"

* * *

In the gallery, Karen climbed onto Olivia's lap and whispered, "Daddy, looks tired, Mom."

"I know, Baby K, he's been staying up late a lot of nights working on this speech." Olivia rubbed her cheek against Karen's hair, then hearing Jerry's chuckle, she turned and nudged him. "Put your phone away."

"Mom, he's talking about the economy, that stuff is boring."

"Jer, your dad worked hard on this speech, you need to respect that. Listen to what he's saying."

"Mom."

"Jer, don't make me tickle you in front of Congress."

He grinned, taking out his ear buds and placing his phone in her outstretched hand.

* * *

"…Such circumstances give us cause to be grateful. I, for one, am grateful that I survived an assassination attempt," He paused as the smattering of applause built up in waves until it thundered around the chamber as everyone stood and gave him a standing ovation.

"Thank you," Fitz said diffidently when the applause died down. "I survived and recovered in no small part due to the dedication and brilliance of the doctors, nurses, technicians, assistants, everyone who worked to get me well.

"Tragically not everyone is that lucky: not merely to survive their injuries without permanent damage, but to survive at all. At this time, I would like to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for the sympathy and kindness and most of all sensitivity you have shown me and my family since the passing of Melody Grant who died under tragic circumstances."

Fitz paused, absorbing the pin drop silence, then continued gravely, "Melody was shot by a child, a child who got his hands on a gun. A loaded weapon that he used to kill another human being. That children have ready access to deadly weapons concerns me, it should concern all of you.

"Of even greater concern to me is the report from the American Academy of Pediatrics which tells us that 7,500 children are admitted to US hospitals with gunshot wounds every year, and of those admitted, 500 die from their injuries. That's 500 future leaders, scientists, economists and humanitarians this nation loses every year. Guns are estimated to kill twice as many children as cancer, five times as many as heart disease, and 15 times as many infections. Those figures are from the New England Journal of Medicine. Our doctors have joined our parents in these cries for help.

"Guns are killing our children. Children are killing with guns. You may ask yourself - how are they getting their hands on these weapons? But the real question is - why are so many unsecured loaded weapons kept in the safe haven of home?

"Now I know when you hear this, your first reaction will be to tell government to mind its own business. We have laws in this country to ensure that a 'man's home is his castle'. Yet that castle doctrine needs to be examined further, in light of the fact that the guns we buy for self-defence, are contributing in far greater numbers to the accidental murder and suicide of our children. That's right the unintentional death of our children.

"We can't just stand by and read the death toll figures year after year. So consider this: we already have limits on what you can do in your home. We enforce deed restrictions that limit the number of rooms in your house, the kind of fence you can build around your home, or dictate the animals you can keep as pets. With that in mind, why do we balk at ensuring safety in the home for our nation's children.

"Here at the White House, the tragedy that touched my family has increased security in our home, but what can we do as a nation to make it safe for our children in all homes …"

* * *

At the end of his speech, Fitz stepped down from the Rostrum to be instantly surrounded by a group of well-wishers. He shook hands and accepted hugs, noting that most of his admirers were democrats and independents. Then Karen pushed her way in to give him a hug and a kiss goodnight. Followed by Jerry, who limited himself to a hug, then spent several minutes schmoozing with the congressmen and women and seemed reluctant to leave when Karen dragged him away.

Olivia remained on the periphery, engrossed in conversation with a senator who kept flitting his gaze around as if he was speaking of some great secret; diverting Olivia's attention away from all covert attempts Fitz made to attract her into his circle. But just before she turned to leave, their gazes met for a second and she gave him a megawatt smile. Then she wrapped one arm around Karen, while linking the other through Jerry's and left the chamber together.

When Fitz eventually made it to their room, after making a disappointing detour of the Oval Office, he found her curled up in bed, asleep, wearing his Navy sweatshirt.

He sat down carefully, not wanting to wake her. He brushed the hair from her face and unable to resist, trailed his fingers down her cheek, then lowered his head and stroked his lips across her mouth, but stilled and drew back when her lips trembled beneath his.

She was looking at him in a mixture of hunger and wariness.

"Hi," he said softly, his fingertips caressing the satin curve of her cheek. "I didn't mean to wake you."

The wariness disappeared behind a smile as she pulled him down to her. "You were wonderful. Very commander-in-chief and very presidential. And you said what you wanted, you did it."

"We did it," he smiled, kissing her. "You and me. We make a great team." Then while she smiled against his mouth, returning his kisses, he added, "I thought you'd come back after you'd seen the kids off to bed."

"It just didn't feel right. Everyone was sympathising with you over Mellie's death and I just felt..."

"Felt...?" He paused.

"Like a third wheel again. The other woman."

"Livvie, you're no longer the other woman. You're the woman I'm going to marry."

"On the rebound."

"What?" he drew back, frowning.

"The honeymoon is over for us, Fitz. I think the American people aren't enamoured with me anymore. They were okay as long as I was in the background, without any chance of stepping forward. Mellie and I put on a good show, but they weren't expecting me to be the winner. I don't think they thought that her loss would be so tragic or permanent."

Fitz sat up. "Where is all this coming from? Are you getting cold feet about us?"

"It's not cold feet. It's… I don't know. Do you ever feel that Mellie was the glue that kept us together?"

"What?!" He gave a disbelieving laugh. "She was the _wrench_ that tried to pull us apart!"

Olivia sat up too, reaching for his hand. "I don't mean Mellie herself, but all the turmoil she created pitched us together, we clung to each other to escape from her. Do you think we have what it takes to actually make it on our own, now that she's gone?"

When he failed to find words, she continued softly, "Lately it feels like Mellie was the foundation of our relationship; the standard of comparison for what you wanted in me, that you didn't like in her. But now the standard is gone. There's just you and me, coming out of the shadows, and I'm not sure we have what it takes to survive in the light."

Fitz stared at her, hearing the blood pounding in his ears, and for a moment he thought he wouldn't find the strength to get past the icy cold fear blocking his throat. Then he saw the same fear reflected in her eyes, the fear that this could break them, just when they'd finally reached their own piece of heaven.

He took a deep breath and released it. "Mellie wasn't the glue that held us together, Liv. She was the catalyst that helped me realise I need more in my life. I need you. The first time I saw you, I recognised you. It was my heart, or maybe my soul, recognised you and I felt whole, I could stop searching, I had found 'it'. You were 'it', Livvie. You are always going to be my 'it'."

"Your '_it_' girl." She smiled.

"_My_ 'it_'_ girl."

She leaned forward and kissed him gently, then tugged off his tie and moved her hands under his jacket to slide it off in a single caress.

"Livvie," he breathed as she began to unbutton his shirt, placing soft kisses on his throat until she reached his T-shirt; then she was tugging that off along with the half unbuttoned shirt and tossing them away, stroking her hands over his bare chest, her fingertips brushing across his nipples.

He groaned falling back on the bed holding her in his arms, opening his mouth and swallowing her lips whole, as his hands slipped under the sweatshirt to find smooth, bare skin.

They broke away gasping for air.

"Take off that damned sweatshirt," he growled.

She raised a brow. "Was there a please in there somewhere?"

He drew one of her fingers into his mouth and sucked, then grinned when the sweatshirt flew off the next instant.

"You don't play fair," she grumbled sinking down for another kiss.

"I don't play. Not when it comes to you," he said thickly, holding her close.

* * *

It was much later, as he trailed his fingers over her back, feeling the welcome weight of her half lying over him, that he remembered to ask, "What was Maxwell whispering to you about?"

"Jealous?" she mumbled, and he felt her smile.

"Yeah. Always. Tell me what you were talking about."

She placed a kiss on his chest before replying. "We did business together...a long time ago."

"What kind of business?"

"I promised Maxwell I wouldn't tell you."

"Did it involve sex, drugs or money?"

"Fitz…"

He kissed the top of her head and then said softly, "You know you have to give that up. After we get married."

"The sex, drugs or money?"

"The job."

"Yes, but that won't be for at least another year."

"I'm not waiting a year to marry you," he refuted instantly.

She raised herself up to look at him. "Long engagements are good for people to really get to know each other."

"I want us to get married on Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's – as in a month?"

"Yes."

"Fitz, you want me to give up everything and become your wife in one month?"

He nodded, lowering his head for a kiss; then looked in confusion as Olivia pushed away to scramble off the bed and thrust herself into his shirt that had been so carelessly tossed on the floor.

"This is why we need a long engagement! You decide things on your own, and then you tell me, like I'm one of your staff, not your fiancee!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember when you asked my dad to stay here in the White House?!"

"This place has 132 rooms, including 25 bedrooms and 35 bathrooms. It's not like we don't have the space."

"I'm not talking about space! I'm talking about the unilateral decision you made in inviting him, without asking me first! You told me after you had decided. Just like you've decided I should give up my business and marry you in a month. Fitz, we need to discuss these things."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?"

"No, no! This is _not_ a _discussion_! This is a debriefing – you are debriefing me about the plans you've made for us!" She glared at him, then turned on her heel.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep in one of the other 24 bedrooms!"

* * *

**A/N: Hello, and THANK YOU sooooooo much for all the lovely comments at the end of Part I of this story. :)))))  
**

**If you're reading this, you know that I've started the new story with a looooong chapter … a week off and I've swallowed the encyclopaedia-pill (all 32 volumes in one read!). Not sure what the cure for that is... **

**Anyway I'm trying to tie each chapter in with a political theme and that's bloated the plot. Also not sure how that intention will go in the long run – hopefully I won't have to kill anybody towards the end to make it all work. #StillNotSorryAboutMellie.**

**And indulging in my new obsession with quotable quotes – again from ****_the 100 funny quotes of all time_**** on the ****_quotery _****website: ****_If you steal from one author, it's plagiarism; if you steal from many it's research – Wilson Mizner_**

**So here's my 'research' (heh, heh):**

**_There have been more mass shootings since Newtown than you've heard about_**** (infographic) – written by Katy Hall, Jan Diehm and Ethan Fedida published in Huffington Post on Sept 17, 2013; ****_At least 9900 have died from guns in the US since the Newtown Shooting: Slate_**** by Domique Mosbergen in Huffington Post published Oct 28, 2013; ****_Gun deaths shaped by race in America_**** - by Dan Keating, published in the Washington Post on March 22, 2013; ****_Study: U.S. Hospitals Admit 7,500 Kids A Year With Gunshot Wounds_ by Eric Lach – published on talkingpointsmemo website (TPM) October 28, 2013;_ Epidemic: Guns kill twice as many kids as cancer does_ - Dustin Racioppi, published in USA Today, April 11, 2013; _Castle Doctrine from State to State_ by Brendan Purves on the southuniversity website issue 7, Jully 2011 **

**The State of the Union information and Franklin D. Roosevelt's Bill of Rights were all faithfully filched from Wikipedia. _Student debt rises in Mass. and the nation_ by Peter Schworm published in the Boston Globe, January 6, 2014; _How The $1.2 Trillion College Debt Crisis Is Crippling Students, Parents And The Economy_ - Chris Denhart published in Forbes 08/07/2013 and the National Center for Education Statistics - fast facts 2013; _Just a reminder: The US still has ludicrously high long-term unemployment_- Tim Fernholz, published January 6, 2014 on Quartz - qz website, more info from USA Today, Bloomberg and Reuters.  
**

**There's an article called ****_It's not just the Queen's corgis…the royal family has an animal kingdom _****written by Harry Hodges and published on Sep 14, 2013 in the Express (UK) . The line '****_polar ice caps have melted faster in …20 years than in the last 10,000_****' was stolen verbatim from the article ****_Polar ice sheets melting faster than ever _****written by Irene Quaile and published in Deutsche Welle on Feb 4, 2013**


	2. Fiscal Cliff

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Fitz stared as the door shut behind Olivia, then he flung back the covers and got out of bed to pull on his pants and go after her.

He found her in the Lincoln Bedroom looking uncertainly at the four-poster bed.

"Appropriate choice."

"Go away."

"Did you know that Lincoln was an unhappily married man?"

"I haven't watched the movie."

"It's not in the movie. Mary Todd Lincoln is said to have made her husband's life a living hell."

At Olivia's darting glance of surprise, Fitz added, "She was described as one of the most detested public women in American history. She had the same problems as Mellie - narcissism and borderline personality disorder. Her son Robert had her arrested and committed to an insane asylum, until she was released after a retrial."

"Okay, you can have this room, and I'll find go find somewhere else." Olivia tried to side-step him but he blocked her path.

"Lincoln is believed to have loved two women – Ann Rutledge possibly the first and great love of his life. She rejected him for another man who later abandoned her. Historians say she and Lincoln became secretly engaged but she died of typhoid fever before they could marry. Then he fell in love with Mary Owens, who rejected him because he lacked social graces."

Olivia gave him a level look. "But he married Mary Todd who made fun of him for eating butter off his knife at the table, and opening the front door himself without waiting for a servant."

That made him grin. "I love how you know that." He drew closer, adding in a slow drawl. "How would history have changed, if Lincoln had married the love of his life; if he'd been able to marry the women he loved, had they not rejected him?"

"You and I probably wouldn't be in this room."

They both fell silent, absorbing the impact of her words, then he reached out and took her hand. When she didn't snatch it away, he tugged her reluctant figure into his arms. "I have waited four years to claim you."

"It sounds like you need a branding iron not a marriage licence," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Livvie, look at me."

"I'm not a cow."

His gust of laughter had her furious gaze fix on him instantly.

"That's not funny!"

"You're cute when you get mad."

"Ugh! Let me go!" She pushed at him.

He let her go but caught her quickly when she stumbled in her haste, and they stood still for a moment facing each other, linked by only his hand on her arm.

As she stared at him, her breathing harsh and visible, he slid his hand down to her wrist to wrap his fingers around her palm.

"Why are you so mad at me?" he asked her.

She looked at him, then she sighed and the tense line of her shoulders vanished into a slump.

"It's not you."

"Okay, why are you mad at you?" When she didn't speak, he added gently, "You knew this would happen eventually, us being together. You said 'yes' when I asked you to marry me."

"I didn't think it would happen this fast. I thought Mellie would keep fighting back. I knew she'd keep delaying, she'd argue about the settlements, she'd demand visitation for the kids, I was so sure she'd drag it out until the re-election. Maybe even after that... but…"

"She died… and now we're here."

"I just... I don't think I can do this..."

"Be my wife?"

"Be First Lady. I don't think I'll be very good at it."

He stepped close, so close that she was leaning against him. "Why would you think that? You've been staying here with me, with the kids after Mellie moved out. "

She sighed, laying her head on his chest. "I was just looking after you. I was in damage control mode. I was trying to be a buffer between her and you and the kids, but now that she's gone, it feels like my job is done."

"You're job isn't done, it's just starting."

"It doesn't feel that way."

"Livvie, I need you. The kids need you. Even the dogs need you. Poppy growled at Cyrus when he tried to pick her up but she comes looking for you for a cuddle when you come home from work. They all wait for you. We need you, Livvie."

"I'm here, Fitz. I'm here and I'm happy with the way things are now. I don't want that to change."

"…Are you saying you don't want to marry me?"

"I do want to marry you. I do, but I don't want to be Mrs Grant."

His hands reached up to cup her face. "If this is about that silly argument we had before about your married name. I was teasing. You're Olivia Pope. You'll always be Olivia Pope, even after we get married."

"That's just it. I won't be, even if I keep my name, I'll still be another Mrs Grant."

"Livvie, that just doesn't make sense."

"I know," she said sadly. "That's my problem."

* * *

_"What she wore is the trending topic this morning after Ms Olivia Pope, the President's Fiancée made her first official public appearance last night. Ms Pope attended the State of the Union address on Capitol Hill wearing a gorgeous Michael Korrs dress, white with black lace. It's a gorgeous dress, but as the tweeters out there have said, we've seen it before. Here's a photo of Ms Pope in the same dress she wore on the night of the President's Inauguration, almost four years ago. It looked good then as it did last night but what does it say about the economy if the First Fiance has to recycle her wardrobe to that extent, are we heading for a fiscal cliff..."_

_"I love boots, I go shopping in my boots, but those old boots with that dated dress? Honey, lets all start a collection for that poor woman. It's obvious her allowance doesn't stretch to the designer suits worn so well by the former First Lady, Melody Grant, who died so tragically just a few weeks ago. Now there was a woman who could put the power in a power suit. Her passing will be such a loss to the fashion industry..."_

_"Is that an old dress? That's what we're talking about today. Not kids killing and getting killed by guns; or the money the government could be channelling into health or education, if tax-payers weren't subsidising minimum wage workers - because that was what the President was talking about last night. But what we're talking about this morning is an old dress and what it means for our economy. Really? There's a link? Someone woke early this morning to join random dots to spot a trend? All I want to know is what the FTSE 100 Index has got to do with the First Fiancee's dress, can someone tell me that?..."_

Fitz plucked the remote from Olivia's hands and switched off the TV.

"You looked gorgeous in that dress. I love you wearing that dress," he muttered, hugging her tightly under the covers.

"I loved that you chose that dress. That you remembered the last time I wore it," she said softly, snuggling close.

"It's etched forever in my mind." He kissed her.

She smiled against his lips. "I think I need a stylist."

He drew back sharply. "You don't need a stylist. You've got style. I love your style."

"Fitz, they think we're heading for a financial crisis because of my wardrobe."

"You don't need a stylist. We need a counsellor."

"What?"

He shifted to lean against the pillows, looking at her patiently. "Livvie, we need pre-marital counselling. We need to sort out what's going on with you. With us. I feel like you're running away again."

"Fitz, I'm right here."

"In body, but your mind has packed its bag and put one foot out the door. Do you want to call your friend, Dr Mendoza?"

"I'm not talking about my problems with my friends."

He stared at her solemnly, then said patiently. "I'll find the counsellor."

"I don't want a complete stranger knowing our business."

He stared at her some more and she stared back.

Then the door slammed open and Jerry barged in, forcing Olivia to dive under the covers, so that she was almost decent by the time Karen and the dogs jumped on the bed.

"I'm getting a lock on that door," Fitz muttered, as he and Olivia were covered in doggy slobbered greetings. Then he noticed that Jerry was glaring at him as Karen clung to Olivia.

"What?"

"Why did you make Mom wear an old dress? They're being mean about it on all the gossip sites."

"Yeah." Karen agreed, tightening her arms around Olivia.

Olivia kissed Karen, then reached past Daisy and Darth, to take Fitz by the hand. "I was late, remember? Your dad had to pick a dress, and lucky for me he picked one of my favourites. I didn't mind that I had worn it before."

Fitz smiled at her, then grinned when Jerry said gruffly, "I think you looked beautiful in it too."

"Me too," Karen muttered.

Then the kids scrambled off the bed. "Okay, we'll tell them where to go with their bitchy comments."

"Hey, Jer, Baby K, no!" Olivia called out, forcing the kids to stop in their race out the door.

"Why not?"

"If you respond to negative comments, they'll get worse. Respond to the nice ones. Other kids will be reading your comments, show them you're clever at handling the bad stuff."

Karen and Jerry exchanged a glance, then they nodded and left at more sedate pace, with Rex and Poppy following behind.

When Daisy and Darth remained, Fitz said firmly, "Out." Then more sternly, "Out!" but all they did was wag their tails and lick his face.

Finally it was Jerry's 'walkies' whistle that had the dogs jumping down and racing off, leaving Olivia giggling as Fitz cursed and went to shut the door.

When he came back to the bed, he said, "Get dressed."

"Why?" Olivia pulled the covers up and crossed her arms.

"We're two reasonably intelligent adults, we can work this out."

"Work what out?"

"Us, you, whatever the hell is going on here."

"There is nothing going on."

"Are you getting out of bed?"

She shook her head, then gasped when he yanked off the quilt, then launched himself at her in tickle mode.

"Fitz! Get off me!" she laughed, trying to get away.

* * *

"I hate you," she muttered as he dragged her outside. "And it's snowing."

"It's stopped snowing."

"Why can't we talk inside?" she grumbled as they plodded through the snow, leaving deep pits in their footsteps.

"We can't have a snowball fight inside," he said.

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening in delight. "We're going to have a snowball fight?!"

"Yeah," he grinned.

She tugged free of his grasp and bent to scoop a handful of snow.

"Wait, there are rules to this game," he stalled her.

"How come you get to make the rules?"

"My game, my rules."

She threw the half-scrunched snow mound at him. "That is not fair!" Then she took off giggling as he chased after her.

Their gait was ungainly and when she tripped, he caught her and they rolled around laughing. "You don't play by the rules," he chided, looking into her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What are you going to do about it?"

He looked at her mouth, then at her laughing gaze, then reluctantly got to his feet, hauling her up after him.

"We're going to play my game first. We're going to make a snowball for what we love and what we hate about each other, and then we're going to hit each other with it."

"I go first right?" Olivia raced off to make her first ball. "Hate or love first?"

"You get to choose." Before he finished speaking, she hit him with handful of icy flakes.

"I hate that you dragged me out here in the cold!" She yelled, then she hit him with another snowball, "But I loved the snowball fight idea!"

When his turn came, he hit her with "I hate how you won't tell me what's wrong! I love you!"

"That's cheating!" She pelted him with another volley. "I hate how you push me to do things I don't want! But I love the way you do it sometimes."

"I hate you for being stubborn and I love you."

"Cheating!" She pelted him again. "I hate that you want me to give up my job!"

"I hate that you're not beside me when I'm doing mine!"

"I don't want to be mannequin!"

"Do you want to marry me?" he threw a snowball at her.

"Yes!" She hit him back. "But I think we should wait!"

"I don't want to wait!"

"This isn't about what you want! What about what I want?!"

"What do you want?! Tell me what you _want_! Not what you _should_ want!" He lobbed an extra large snowball at her.

She paused as it smashed into her chest. "I want to be me. I want to be Olivia Pope. I want to fix things. I'm good at fixing things, I run a successful business fixing things and I earn good money doing that. I'm functional, Fitz. I don't want to be ornamental."

"So you don't want to get married?"

"I don't know."

Just then they heard excited barking followed by laughter and shouts from Jerry and Karen.

"Can we play too?"

"Yes!" Olivia laughed hugging the kids and the dogs, and then they all had another massive snowball fight during which Fitz managed to laugh and play as if the love of his life hadn't just pushed him off the edge of a cliff.

* * *

Fitz managed to keep up the pretence all the way through brunch, without actually talking to, or meeting Olivia's gaze.

When Karen and Jerry said they were going bowling in the White House basement, he watched Olivia escape with Teddy, heading for the Map Room with Daisy and Darth on her heels.

After a moment, he followed too, overriding his initial hesitation at wanting to marshal his thoughts; of needing to have a clear plan of attack before he confronted her again. But watching her walk away, he knew they needed to talk even if he hadn't formed a single persuasive thought in his head.

He stood watching her for a long moment, rocking Teddy in her arms, then he heard her speak and realised even she was at a loss of what to do next.

"This is so complicated. I don't want it to be so complicated." He heard her sigh, kissing Teddy's plump cheek. "I've made your Da mad."

"I'm not mad."

Olivia turned swiftly, her eyes widening at the sight of him leaning against the doorjamb, watching them.

With an honesty that didn't have any finesse, he blurted, "I'm just sad, Olivia. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say." He inhaled a deep breath. "Do you want to be with me?"

She nodded, resting her cheek against Teddy's head. The dogs wagged their tails.

He came further into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Then we won't get married. We can be partners, together. Here. Just like we are now. We'll have a modern relationship in this old building. Show the people that we're no different to–"

"Fitz…" she interrupted. "Don't…" And then she bit her lip, tears gathering in her dark, soulful eyes.

In an instant he was at her side, gathering her and Teddy in a hug.

"Da!" Teddy chortled, slapping his father's chin as Olivia buried her face in his chest.

"I don't want to imagine a life without you, Livvie. It wouldn't be a life without you," he whispered into her hair.

She rubbed her cheek against his thick sweater. "I'm scared."

He stilled against her. "Scared of what?"

"Scared of turning into Mellie."

Just when he thought they'd manoeuvred past an ice floe, it turned out he'd gone and hit the iceberg.

Fitz drew her away from his chest so he could look into her face. "You are not Mellie. You couldn't be Mellie. It's impossible for you to be Mellie."

Olivia gave him a weak smile, then as Teddy did a little dance in her arms, she moved away to start wandering aimlessly around the room.

"Livvie, talk to me."

She came to a halt, swaying with Teddy in her arms. "I know that part of why you love me is because of what I do. I'm an independent woman. I have my own business. I don't need you for material support. I feel like we're equals in that sense, even though you're the Leader of the Free World and I'm just a Fixer. I don't feel less when I'm with you."

"You're not less. You can never be less," he said hoarsely.

"But don't you see, I spent years building my career, years proving myself, years earning respect and trust. If I gave it up, I'd lose the biggest part of myself that gives me confidence, that makes me feel successful... and then what would I have? I'd just be the wife, craving your admiration and maybe even your attention, while you meet other exciting, amazing, independent career women who'll be more fascinating than me. Presidents, Prime Ministers, Queens, CEOs, astronauts, Olympians, chart-topping pop stars..."

Fitz stared at her for several long minutes before saying slowly, almost in disbelief, "You think that you'll become Mellie and I'll find myself another Olivia Pope."

"Or another Cleopatra or another Marilyn Monroe."

"Livvie." He came up to her, lifting Teddy with one arm, while he gathered her close with the other, wanting to absorb her whole. "There'll never be another you for me. Or another anyone else. I've waited so long to find you – do you think I'm just going to throw you away just like that? Can't you see me trying to hang onto you like a man clinging to the edge of a cliff by his fingertips? You're not stepping into Mellie's shoes, Livvie, you're stepping into your own. You have a place in my heart that's virgin territory; where no one has gone before you."

Teddy chortled when Olivia laughed, but he could tell she was crying, so he hugged her closer.

"I love you." He kissed the top of her head, then felt like smiling when Teddy rested his cheek on the spot he had kissed, prompting an audible sob from Olivia.

Releasing a deep sigh, he held them both, whispering, "I'm not letting you go, Livvie. You're mine. I can't let you go."

When the two dogs whined, Olivia pulled away to stroke their heads reassuringly. Then she straightened, wiping at her cheeks. "It's not you I'm worried about, Fitz. It's being First Lady. From being an independent career woman, I'll be a kept woman in the Crown Jewel of the American Prison system."

"Livvie, I'm enjoying my incarceration ever since you joined me in the Executive Residence Cell Block."

She gave a shaky laugh. "You say the sweetest things."

He grinned, but the grin vanished when she added,"The Office of the First Lady has a lot of traditions and I'm not sure I'm a good fit."

He leaned towards her. "Make your own tradition. Be your own person, Livvie. I'm not expecting you to follow in the footsteps of Eleanor Roosevelt, Mamie Eisenhower or Hilary Clinton. I want to blaze your own trail. Set a new standard here at the White House. Do your own thing. Have a career outside The White House. I don't care."

"You know I can't keep running my business. There would always be the potential for a conflict of interest, like..."

"...Artie Hornbacher." They both said together.

Then Fitz said firmly, "We'll agree on a Chinese Wall – we keep our interests separate. Our working lives separate."

"It won't work."

"We make it work, Liv. If we make it work, we'll shatter the glass ceiling for all future First Ladies with career ambitions outside 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue."

Olivia looked at him sceptically.

"Livvie, I want you to be happy, and I want you here, with me and the kids."

"Even if that means I'll end up embarrassing you in front of everyone in my worn-again designer clothes?"

"Maybe Huck and I can come to some kind of arrangement about dealing with your detractors."

She giggled.

"Come here," he said huskily.

"You're holding Teddy."

Fitz held open Teddy's arms, and repeated, "Come here."

She laughed, and came closer to wrap her arms around them.

"Are we good?" He whispered, his lips brushing her temple.

"We're good."

"Gah!" Teddy agreed. Darth and Daisy added a couple of lazy woofs as they lay sprawled on the carpet.

Fitz chuckled, as Olivia snuffled a laugh into his chest, and warmth melted the cold knot in his belly.

"Okay," she said after a while.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll marry you – on Valentine's day."

* * *

(**A/N: Hellooooo, sooo good to be back (I truly did miss you all!). Thank you soooo much for the votes of confidence… but remember that was only chapter One… potential to crash and burn remains high ;))))) (I say this gleefully!).**

**So yes, crazy Mellie had a predecessor apparently - the information about Mary Todd Lincoln was taken from the serialised PDFs available on the Knox College website of Michael Burlingame's '****_Abraham Lincoln: A Life_****'. The reference to Mary's mental illness can before in Chapter Six entitled ****_'It would just kill me to Marry Mary Todd_****' - this PDF can be found as a stand-alone on Google search. There's another article '****_Insane or Just Difficult_****', on the Mary Todd Lincoln biography by Jean H Baker, which was a book review written by Polly Longsworth for The New York Times on Sep 13, 1987.**

**And um... I've retired the 3 media commentators in Part I, and brought in 3 new ones - hopefully their 'voices' sound different:)**

**And much as I'd love to add Michelle Obama to the list of pioneers, she can't exist in this story unfortunately (but her work will inspire Olivia. Just as Fitz is reaping the benefits of President Barack Obama's work!)**

**BTW, have I said how much I loooooove your comments! THANK YOUUUUUU!**


	3. Tactical Planning

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #GoKERRY #GoodLuck GoldenGlobes! **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"A white wedding in the White House." Cyrus peered out at the snow covered Rose Garden, standing beside Fitz in the Oval Office. "Don't you think it's too soon after Mellie's death? Not that I particularly miss her Lady Macbeth impersonations in these hallowed halls. And I did volunteer to organise a New Orleans Jazz funeral but you vetoed the idea."

Cyrus paused to acknowledge the wry glance Fitz angled his way, before continuing, "The point is that even Woodrow Wilson waited more than a year to re-marry after his first wife died of Bright's disease."

"You think it will be less of a scandal if I wait a respectable length of time before marrying Olivia? And who decides how long that should be? Olivia is the love of my life, Cy. I don't want to wait. I can't afford to wait. Life is too uncertain to be blasé about waiting."

"How about Spring? It's not that far away, and the roses will be in bloom. We could set up a nice marquee; tea on the lawn; a couple of swans instead of penguins, an igloo and ice-fishing. The aesthetics would be better. And Ella could toddle around with Teddy, with James chasing after them, to make sure they don't topple the five-tier wedding cake and the champagne pyramid. I'd say Spring."

"We're getting married. On Valentine's Day. This year."

There was a silence as they both watched the snowflakes swirl in the wind. Then Cyrus muttered, "On the bright side, I don't think it's as much of a scandal as President Grover Cleveland marrying his daughter at the White House."

"Cleveland married the daughter of his best friend."

"Frances Folsom was his legal ward, and he'd known her from the day she was born. Not to mention the fact that she was 27 years younger than Cleveland."

"Why is that marriage more scandalous than what happened to his son – the child, many believed he'd fathered? The boy was forcibly taken from the mother and put in an orphanage. What's more, the public voted for Cleveland as President not once, but twice after knowing all that."

"From what I understand of that many-headed beast we called Public Opinion, the American people are kinder to those who admit their indiscretions."

"Hmm..."

Again both men stared out at the winter wonderland of the landscape beyond.

* * *

Across town, Olivia sat at the OPA conference table facing her associates. "How do you feel about all this?"

"It's business as usual, or business as _unusual_ as it's been since you moved into the White House," Abby shrugged.

"But I'll be even less hands-on than I have been lately," Olivia pointed out. "Will you be okay to self-manage for awhile?"

"How long is that?" Huck frowned.

"Four years," Harrison muttered.

"That's not guaranteed," Olivia hastened to add.

"Maybe we can all work for you at the White House," Quinn suggested.

"No chance." Harrison shook his head. "If you thought it was bad, what they put us through for dinner with the family. Wait until they start digging up our dirty little secrets in the process of getting us cleared to breathe oxygen in the West Wing."

There was a silence.

"I don't want to work in the White House," Huck said grimly.

"Me neither."

"Yeah, I'm good over here."

Olivia sat back in her seat. "If we are more or less comfortable with the new situation. You need to be aware that some clients may have a problem with my name being on the door when I'm..."

"In bed with the President," Abby said.

"..._married_ to the President," Olivia corrected. "So you may have to free-lance from time to time."

"So we don't just provide a confidential service, we'll even go undercover?" Quinn clarified, then grinned. "Cool."

"_Cool_? How old are you?" Abby frowned.

"Younger than you."

Harrison remained focused on Olivia. "How will the new dynamic work— we'll be solving cases as independent contractors but we still report to you?"

"An ad hoc franchise?"

"Be your own boss, then report to the boss?"

"Do I have to move my computers out of here?"

"No, no one has to move out. Not unless you want to. We will work as we have been, and make any necessary changes to the new structure as we move forward. Basically, what I need you to know is that I may have to decline clients, you may want to help independently."

"You think we'll still have clients after they learn we're just the_ A_ in associates without the _OP _in Olivia Pope," Harrison gave her a considering look.

Abby sat forward. "If they don't, we'll have to increase the volume to make up for the shortage in big name clients who pay big bucks."

"We're going to be ambulance chasers?" Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"I can change the 911 call system so the ambulance chases us."

The others looked at Huck, then Olivia held up a hand. "No one is going to change anything. Especially not to the 911 emergency system. And you aren't going to chase ambulances. We're going to do this. We're going to make this work."

"I can't talk to clients," Huck scowled.

"Harrison and Quinn can talk to clients," Olivia said.

"What about me?" Abby sat up.

"Harrison and Quinn will deal with the meet-and-greet aspect for potential clients and you will be the closer. You will tell them what needs to be done after they've signed the contract and paid us a retainer. Huck will be the operations centre. Any questions?" Olivia asked. "Are you with me?"

The other four looked at each other, then looked at Olivia and said in unison. "Over a cliff."

* * *

"Madam Vice President, how are we this fine afternoon in the ice box of the United States?"

Sally Langston paused for a moment as she exited the Senate Chamber, then continued walking. "Hollis Doyle, as I live and breathe. And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Now, why would you suspect an ulterior motive when I'm here to wish you the best for the New Year."

"Hollis, the day you don't have an ulterior motive is a day I will see a pig grow wings and fly."

"A pig might well be flying in this blizzard, the folks out here call a little gust of wind."

"Yes, it is a cold day in hell, now why have you come to warm your socks by my fire?"

Hollis smiled. "Ah, a woman who gets straight to the point. I like that about you, Sally. Now, a little birdie told me that we're going to have a wedding ceremony over at the White House."

"My, my, what noise these little birdies make when they forget to fly south for the winter."

"So you didn't get a wedding invite either. Glad to know it wasn't just me."

"From what I heard, and my sources are far more reliable than your birds, it's going to be a small wedding. Family only. In consideration of the poor dear wife who is no longer with us."

"That was a tragedy."

"Deeply felt by you, I'm sure."

"Now, Sally, what could you possibly mean by that?"

"Hollis, it is no secret that you wound that poor woman up like an eight-day clock and let her loose in all her madness on Olivia Pope."

"I didn't know the woman was certifiable. I just wanted her to distract Fitz from the business of governing. You know that man and his ideals are the worst thing that can happen to us as Americans and the rights conferred by our citizenry. Hell, we're barely a couple of weeks into the New Year and he's got the Gun Lobby and Corporate America baying for his blood."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that you need to step up your game, Madam Vice President. Olivia ain't no dress-up doll wanting Fitzy Boy at her beck and call. She's a fixer. And if she starts fixing El Presidente's problems, the world as we know it will end. Now, I don't know about you, Sally, but I like being in the top 10 per cent controlling 80 per cent of this country's assets. I don't want to downsize my gas-guzzling jet for a four-door electric monstrosity that's forever stuck in traffic."

"So you want me to help you maintain your choice of lifestyle?"

"That is cynical but accurate. So what say we find a nice quiet place to discuss our mutual beneficial partnership?"

"We have no such thing, Hollis."

"Oh but we could, Sally. You just aren't aware of the benefits of my plans, starting with the wedding. I was going to recommend that you take a bit more interest in the arrangements."

"The arrangements? I have no concern of the arrangements – small or large, I am grateful that the leader of this nation is no longer co-habiting without shame."

"Sally, let me help you understand the bigger picture, outside the narrow confines of everything you consider holy. In my book, co-habitation is a good thing. For you. I mean just consider the alternative on the ballot for all them church-going, God-fearing, Bible-versed folk come election time."

Sally stopped and turned to Hollis. "Hollis, I do believe you may be of some use to me after all."

* * *

"Oh it's you." James peered at the figured hunched on the garden chair.

"Of course, it's me." Cyrus growled. "Who else would it be?"

"That's what I came to find out," James brushed off the pile of snowflakes that had settled on his husband's shoulders. "All I could see was a snow-covered mound scaring away the owls. I had to do something before Ella sees you, and starts having nightmares for the rest of her life."

"Hrmph."

James sat down on the chair next to Cyrus.

"Is there a reason you're out here doing your best gargoyle impression?"

"Fitz is getting married."

"Oh yay!" James clapped his hands

Cyrus glowered at him. "Do you have to do that when Ella isn't around?"

"Sorry," James muttered. "Force of habit. But why is this upsetting you? I thought we were all aboard the Olitz love train."

"Olitz?" Cyrus scowled.

"Olivia and Fitz – Olitz. That's what the media is calling them… well, the parts of the media that's fangirling about our two lovebirds. I won't repeat what the nasties are saying about them."

"It's those nasties that have got me worried! Those nasties have a lot of influence and this is an election year!"

"It doesn't feel like it's an election year."

"Precisely! Fitz is acting like this is his second year in office! Granted the momentum was lost due to no fault of his own – first there was the wife attempting to throw Olivia under the bus every chance she got; then the shooting; now there's the wedding. What I want to know is - when will it be the _re-election campaign_?!"

"After the wedding?"

"It's too soon to have a wedding! Wife number one is still fresh on people's minds and he's bringing on board Wife Number Two – what is he thinking?"

"That it would have been better if he were a Mormon. Then he could have had a plural marriage, married Mrs Looney Tunes with an official licence, and married Olivia in a private ceremony. That would tick all the standard boxes, marriage, recognised by a church, not living in sin, two wives. Everyone is happy."

Cyrus glared at James, who raised a questioning brow, "What?"

"This is a serious conversation."

"Agreed. That's why I'm out here freezing my extremities, talking to Mr Gloom-and-Doom. What you need to understand, Cy, is that Olivia and Fitz are in love. I can see they're in love. Everyone with two functioning brain cells can see they're in love. They are cute. They're sweet. They remind me of kittens, baby otters and bunny rabbits. They should get married and have smushy babies. Ella needs more friends."

"Will you get your mind out of a petting zoo and look at the real picture! We're running for re-election without the Wicked Witch of the West to fake smiles and coo at babies. We have Olivia who is beautiful, smart, articulate but black. We have Fitz, less beautiful, smart, articulate and thinking he's a Democrat. They are in love. It's true – but you know what: _NO ONE CARES_! Being in love is not essential to being President! And we are running out of time on a happy ending for our re-election campaign!"

"I think you're wrong. I think people do want to see people in love, even in the top job. That's why we believe in the fairytale of Jackie and Jack Kennedy in Camelot. I personally think you should use the wedding as part of the campaign."

Cyrus gave an exasperated sigh. "What?"

"Don't you see, it's free publicity, coast-to-coast, and worldwide, through every medium available because we love weddings – just look at the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge as an example – three billion people around the world watched the nuptials."

"Not all of them can vote in an American Presidential Election."

"Every billion counts, Cy."

"Tell that to the couple who want a _small_ wedding. A _quiet_ wedding. _Family_ only."

"So we're not invited? ... Oh. I was so looking forward to getting a cute little fairy floss dress for Ella to wear."

"I don't think they've decided on the guest list yet."

"So who's helping them plan the wedding?"

"No one."

"_No one_? The First Presidential Wedding in the White House in 128 years and _no one_ is planning their wedding?"

"I told you, it's just family and they want to keep it private."

"Private?! The whole world will be watching from afar! They'll be clamouring for pictures, gossip, copies of the menu! People will be getting book deals out of this!" James paused to take a breath. "I should do this."

"Do what?"

"Plan their wedding."

"Don't be ridiculous! You're a journalist. Not a wedding planner."

"I need to branch out, explore other options. Do you know how many journalists lose their jobs every year – at least a couple of thousand. And wedding planning as a small business enterprise is on the increase. Besides I organised our wedding. You didn't complain."

"I couldn't. The white tie you got for my tux was too tight."

* * *

**A/N: So I know that James Novak has been made White House Press Secretary – but then after reading '****_No 'Scandal' in liberal use of dramatic licens_****e' by Jonathan Capehart in Washington Post, Jan 2, 2014 – where the journalist says that '****_you will never see a reporter covering the White House married to the White House staff'_****. Normally I would use that dramatic licence of forgetting inconvenient truths … BUT in this instance, I've decided to listen to reality and give James a career change – so Cyrus wouldn't have to think of ways to kill him. Ella needs James in her life.**

**And by the way, Wedding Planning is apparently a lucrative and easy business to get into for first-timers – see ****_Startup Wedding Planners Explore Niche Markets to Stand Out_**** - Emily Meehan in Entrepreneur April 19,2013. Compare that to the woes of journalism careers in ****_ASNE census finds 2,600 newsroom jobs were lost in 2012_**** by Rick Edmonds in Poynter, June 25, 2013.**

**Also you can read up on more real-life scandals in American politics via ****_America's Forgotten Presidential Sex Scandal_**** by Charles Lachman, published in the Daily Beast on May 23, 2011 and ****_Ye Olde Sex Scandals: Grover Cleveland's Love Child_**** by Elisabeth Donnelly written The Awl on February 9, 2010.**

**Seriously, the real stuff is waaaaaay better than fiction!**


	4. Strategic Planning

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #LateDelivery #TooMuchTrawling-KerryPics-GoldenGlobes-babybump! **

**Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers: No Mellie, No Joke  
**

* * *

Olivia entered the welcome heat of her office building, and walked briskly towards the conference room, pulling off her scarf and gloves. Then stopped at the sight of James chatting with OPA; while Ella scribbled with a marker pen on sheets of paper, sitting on the table.

"James," She gave a quizzical look. "This is a lovely surprise."

He stood up grinning. "You have that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The look that says – 'Should I be worried that you are here with my god-daughter?' That look."

"Oh," Olivia finished removing her gloves. "Should I be?"

"Let's talk." James picked Ella off the table, when she was in the middle of a staring match with Huck.

"Okay..." Olivia glanced at her associates who either shrugged or shook their heads. "I guess you better step into my office."

"Nice place you have here."

"Thank you."

"It'll be tough change to go from career woman to a glorified house wife after you get married."

"Not that much is changing. I'm going to keep my business, even after I marry Fitz."

James peered at her from the top of his glasses, but he waited until he'd taken a seat on the couch in Olivia's office and settled Ella on his knee before saying, "How are you going to fit all the teas, lunches, dinners, committees and presentations you'll have to give with your normal business schedule?"

"That is a work-in-progress." Olivia smiled as she sat next to him and held out her hand for Ella to grab. "So tell me, what can you do for me?"

"You need help with your wedding."

"I do..? I mean, I don't. James." She gave a small laugh. "It's going to be private, small, no fuss."

"Olivia, you know it's a big deal. We've been waiting for this wedding since your case in North Carolina. It's a big deal. You can't turn up to the Registry in between client appointments. You need to give the people something more. You're on the world stage now, Olivia. You need to put on a show."

Olivia tilted her head. "That sounds reasonable. I'm just not sure why _you_ would want to make a _career change_ by helping me. I need to know why you're here."

"Because I want to give you and Fitz a wedding present?"

Olivia shook her head.

"Because I'm bored being a house husband and I need to have at least one adult conversation during the day?"

Olivia smiled. "Maybe, but that's not it."

James sighed. "Okay. I need a contact. Now that Mrs Loo— I mean Mrs Melody Grant is no longer around to keep dangling bait in terms of a story. I need an in."

"You've got Cyrus."

"He dangles shark bait. He's the shark, I'm the bait."

Olivia giggled. "So marriage is heavenly bliss for you both?"

"Peachy blossom bliss. So what do you say? Will you let me organise the best private wedding the White House has seen while I figure out my own little career crisis?"

"So you're not going into Wedding Planning as a business."

"That's what I've told Cyrus, and I'd like him to keep thinking that for as long as possible..." James paused. "Not that I'm bragging but I did a great job organising my own wedding and I do know a thing or two about the media game. I can help. As a friend."

"This is very kind of you but are you sure you want to do this? The pain might be greater than the gain."

James smiled. "Thank you for the warning, but I'm ready."

* * *

"So what did he want?" Abby asked the moment James had left with Ella.

"He wants to help plan my wedding."

"Huh," Abby tapped her fingers on her folded arms. "That guy wants to help you plan your wedding? Isn't he married to the guy who's been trying to keep you and Fitzgerald Grant apart?"

"Cyrus has accepted the inevitable. He's okay with us now."

"Yeah? When did that leopard change its spots?"

"Recently. Vermont."

"As recently as that? Now the husband wants to plan your wedding?" Abby shook her head at Olivia. "You need someone to watch those two."

"Abs, you can't volunteer. We have real clients to deal with. I can't have everyone working on my wedding – my _small, private_ wedding."

"Am I invited?"

"Of course, you're invited."

"Then I'm involved."

* * *

"So that guy is helping Liv with her wedding plans."

The three other associates looked up from their laptops at Abby, then at each other, then back at Abby.

"Why is that a bad thing?" Harrison asked.

"The dude is married to Cyrus Beene, the White House chief of staff; the guy who has been trying to break up Olivia and the President."

"Not sure how I should feel about that, since you were the one who said Liv's PDAs made you nauseous..." Quinn muttered, turning her attention back to the computer.

"Listen, Lindsay!" Abby snapped, "I wasn't trying to sabotage their relationship! I didn't want Liv to get hurt."

Huck shook his head at that. "No, you were sad that David wasn't more like Fitz."

"Look, we're talking about Liv and this wedding planner dude! Not me and David!"

"If Liv is okay with the arrangement, we don't need to get involved," Harrison shrugged.

"_We do_ _need_ _to get involved!_"

"We've got three clients to deal with right now."

"We don't have to deal with them 24/7. We can do this in our spare time."

"Do what?" Huck frowned.

"Wedding need hobbies. This would be a good start."

"Wedding planning as a hobby?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Olivia had just picked up her 'Fitz' phone when it rang. Smiling, she answered, "I was just about to call you…what's up?"

"Haven't changed your mind? Still marrying me?"

"Fitz!" she chuckled. "Yes, I'm still marrying you. And we've got a wedding planner."

"Wow. Okay…who is she?"

"_He _is James Novak."

"James Novak as in _James Novak_ who's married to _Cyrus_ – that James?"

"Yep."

"Interesting... Interesting that Cyrus didn't mention anything."

"Are you okay about James planning our wedding?"

"Haven't you already decided?"

"Yes. But I want to know if you're okay with it."

"Wait, so this isn't a discussion, this is a _debriefing_?"

Olivia paused, then said with mock sternness. "Listen, mister, it's not the same."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not."

"If it quacks like a duck, it's a duck."

"Goodbye, Mr President."

"I love you, Livvie."

He waited.

She waited.

"Livvie..."

She relented, and sighed. "I love you, too, Fitz."

"Come over."

"What? No! I'm meeting with a client."

"When?"

"Later."

"Stop by on your way."

"No."

* * *

"Olivia Pope. This is a providential coincidence. I hear congratulations are in order and I have been meaning to give them to you in person. So congratulations, my dear, on your engagement to Fitzgerald Grant."

Olivia smiled at Sally Langston as they stood in the corridor leading to the Oval Office. "Thank you. That's very kind, but we haven't issued an official announcement yet."

"I should hope not, in light of the fact that the first Mrs Grant is barely cold in her grave. Good taste would dictate that you wait a decent amount of time before making an announcement about her replacement. I would have expected Fitzgerald to wait at least a year before presenting the world with a new wife."

Olivia let the smile fade from her face. "We're getting married on Valentine's Day."

"So that rumour is true?"

"Yes, it is. Now if you will excuse me, I'm on my way to see Fitz."

"Actually," Sally put a hand on Olivia's arm. "There is a business matter that I need to discuss. In private. If you can spare a few minutes, it won't take long…"

* * *

Olivia turned the corner, exiting out of Sally's West Wing office, and walked straight into a solid male chest.

"Hi," she mumbled into the light blue shirt and navy tie that her face was plastered against.

"Hi." A chuckle gusted over the top of her head.

She drew back. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here as your personal tour guide." He lifted his hands to cup her face. "Since it's apparent you need directions to _my _office."

"Ha, ha, funny." She scrunched her nose at him, earning herself a kiss.

He smiled against her mouth. "We need to continue this conversation somewhere more private."

"Private, that would be nice," Olivia drew back, waving a greeting at his Secret Service agents, and a few other White House aides walking past.

He grinned, dropping his hands from her face to reach out and take one of hers. "So just to be clear – this is the West Wing."

"I know."

"We have a lot of offices here. It's easy to get lost"

"I didn't get lost."

"You are close, but just a little way off from the Oval Office."

"I know where the Oval Office is."

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't get lost."

"Fitz!"

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "You really are cute when you get mad."

Olivia maintained a dignified silence until they reached the Oval Office. Then she just had time to say hello to Lauren before she was taken inside and backed against the closed door to be kissed with enough heat to scorch the walls.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?" Fitz demanded, when he released her mouth to begin feathering kisses over her face. "And you kept me waiting…"

"Sally Langston wanted to talk…" She muttered huskily, between kisses.

"What did she want?"

"I can't tell you. It's business. My business."

He drew back. "You've got dirt on Sally and you're not telling me?"

"Fitz, it's not Sally and no, I'm not going to tell you."

"Livvie, I'm going to be your husband. We shouldn't have secrets."

She raised a brow and gave him a long silent stare.

"What?" He grinned at her.

"You said we would make the Chinese Wall work between your job and mine. This is not making it work."

He studied her, then let his gaze wander to her lips. "You're so beautiful…"

"I'm not telling you."

"What if I kiss you just here…?" He bent low to suckle her neck.

She gasped, but managed to mutter, "…N-no…"

* * *

Later that evening, Olivia found herself facing the client that Sally had referred, in the home of a mutual acquaintance. The man sat across from her at the kitchen table, his pugnacious brow scrunched in worry.

"Ms Pope, I've gotta say you were highly recommended, very highly indeed, but there's this rumour you're marrying the President."

"It's not a rumour."

The admission seemed to stump the man. "So how does this work? Because you and I aren't here right now."

"I promised you confidentiality, and you will get confidentiality."

"No pillow talk?"

Olivia raised a brow, but answered calmly, "No pillow talk."

"How can I be sure of that?"

"Would you like me to give you that assurance in writing?"

"No, no!" The man's chins shook in vehemence. "Nothing in writing! That's how we got in this mess in the first place." But his suspicious expression remained. "The President isn't one of my biggest fans."

"He could say the same of you. You endorsed Sally Langston at the last election."

"You know that? And you still want to help?"

"This is a business transaction. If you want my help, you've got it. But no one's forcing your hand to accept."

"Desperation is forcing my hand, Ms Pope. I'm in the running for the next Presidential election, but this bridge fiasco has put a roadblock in my plans."

"You may need to delay those plans."

"Is that your objective opinion, because I'm running against your husband?"

"We're not married yet, and I am confident that Fitz will win a second term. Confident enough to give you an objective opinion."

"And in your '_objective_' opinion, what should I do?"

"Admit the truth."

"If that's your solution then we can stop wasting each others time right." The man stood, Olivia remained seated.

"We're done here." The man said.

"I haven't finished my coffee," Olivia raised her mug.

Again the man looked at her as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with her. "Look, I'm not playing games here, Ms Pope. My whole career is about to hit the crapper. I need solid advice."

"And I'm giving it to you. Take it or leave it. But what I'm telling you to do is the exact opposite of what you've been doing - and let's take a minute to review how well that is going for you - you've got bloggers hacking into your work emails; you've got your peers calling you a liar; you've got the public calling for your resignation; and potential lawsuits from the residents in two boroughs. Have I left anything out?"

"No," the man collapsed back on the chair. "You've covered everything. For now."

"There's more?"

"Let's just deal with what we've got. What do you recommend?"

"You need to take responsibility."

"I have. I've fired the staff involved."

"That's not taking responsibility, that's shifting blame. This happened under your watch, you take it on the chin. You call the Mayor and you apologise, publicly. You may have to extend a substantive measure of support - funding for a project or an endorsement - which should be negotiated in private. Call a press conference, answer the questions that are put to you, directly, humbly, apologetically. Meet with the residents, especially the residents threatening legal action, talk to them, apologise in person, that will help any settlement you reach out of court. And you need to let everyone know what you are doing, and how things are changing so they can trust this won't happen again... under your watch."

"That's what you recommend?"

"That's what I recommend."

The man looked at her thoughtfully. "You need more coffee?"

* * *

Olivia sighed in relief as she got into the car and put on her seat belt.

"Sorry, that took longer than I expected," She looked over at Huck as he started the car.

"It's okay. I didn't have anything else to do."

She glanced at the burger wrappers and drink containers littering the centre console and asked, "Still hungry? I can take you back to my place and cook dinner?"

"The White House?"

"No, my apartment."

"You don't have anything in your apartment except for green cheese, popcorn kernels and red wine. I'm good," he said. Then added after they turned at the corner. "You're being followed."

"What?" She turned to stared out the rear window, unable to see a vehicle. "Who is following us?"

"The Secret Service."

* * *

**A/N: So I have to say: I'm struggling a bit with this story. It's not flowing as easily as the other one. I don't know what the problem is... too much sleep, fibre, research... not enough story, chocolate, cool air... VERMONT! **

**(Psst: I've been spending too much time on fashion sites trying to figure out the wedding dress that Olivia should wear – need words to describe the picture in my head!)**

**So to get over these not-exactly-writer's-block-but-definitely-writer's-blues, I went out in 40-Celsius weather today and fried my scalp to find clarity in the fog of confusion that is my brain right now (Early dementia? Late puberty?). **

**Anyway thank you to the readers who are keeping the faith (seriously, I need you to tell me whatever it is you are taking - I need it!).**

**And my Author's Notes should carry a disclaimer - please disregard everything I say after each chapter as I'm likely to change my mind in the next chapter (aiyo, apoiy, aney as they say in my language!) **

**Aaand, I need to use the ****_Law and Order_**** disclaimer: inspired by true events but this story is entirely fictional and does not depict an actual person or event (even though I've been reading up on ****_Crisis Management Advice for Chris Christie_**** by Abby D Phillip, Jan 9, 2014 on abcnew website and ****_Stephen Harper should take crisis management lessons from NJ Gov. Chris Christie_**** on Canadian yahoo news by Andy Radia on Jan 9, 2014 – that is a mere coincidence!)**


	5. Security Measures

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #StillTrawling-KerryPics GoldenGlobes! **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

It was late, and Olivia didn't bother knocking before she stormed into the Oval Office, to find Fitz behind the Resolute desk, calmly reading a report.

"You are having me _followed_?!"

Fitz looked up, his hand suspended mid-air, then he closed the file carefully and got to his feet. "The guys were supposed to be discreet."

"_Discreet_?" Olivia glared at him.

Tom, having followed Olivia into the room, said in mild defence. "They were discreet, sir. But Olivia's man, Huck spotted them."

Olivia shifted her irate gaze from Fitz to Tom and back again. "This—!"

"Is for your own protection, Livvie," Fitz cut in soothingly, "The Secret Service has to follow you. It's the law."

"United States Code Title 18, section 3056," Tom added helpfully.

Olivia glared at him in outrage. "That section is to protect the President and everyone in line to succeed his office!"

"And their immediate families, ma'am."

"You are my immediate family, Livvie."

"I am _not_ your immediate family because we're not married! Which means you had to issue an Executive Order to have me followed!"

Fitz glanced at Tom, then focused back on Olivia. "You're right I did issue an executive order."

Tom cleared his throat. "Permission to leave, sir."

"Permission granted, Tom."

After Tom had made a quick exit, Fitz faced Olivia. "On a scale of one to 10, how mad are you? Twenty? Thirty-five?"

"This is not funny."

"Keeping you safe is a serious concern of mine."

"How long have you had me followed?"

He hesitated before admitting, "I've had a detail on you since the KKK." When she gaped at him, he hastened to add, "But they were under strict instructions to be discreet because I knew you wouldn't like it."

"So when I went to Blair House to see Mellie the night you were drunk...did Jerry send Tom?"

"No."

She didn't respond to that, except to stare at him solemnly as he approached.

"I love you, Livvie. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"The Secret Service couldn't prevent John F Kennedy, Ronald Reagan, you or Mellie from getting shot. There is no absolute guarantee of safety."

Slowly, cautiously he gathered her into his arms. "I know, but it's the idea of safety that I need sometimes; to know that you're not rushing into volatile situations on your own."

"I'm not on my own. I've got Huck."

"Huck doesn't report to me. And I hate not knowing what's going on with you. Not knowing if you're okay. This needs to be done, Livvie. Not just for my peace of mine, but because it's a legal requirement when you are my wife."

"Fitz…confidentiality is a big deal in my business. How can I guarantee that to my clients when you've got people following me?"

"I only know where you go, and who you meet. No one's listening to what you say, I haven't authorised that. You still have a degree of confidentiality. My people are just watching out for you." He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb lightly over her soft lips. "Nothing more."

She allowed the featherlight caress for a moment, then sighed, "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yes, fine. There's nothing I can do to stop you, and I'll have to get used to the idea of having them around once I'm married to you."

He gave an audible groan of relief, easing her into a tight hug. "Thank you. I was going to tell you after we were married."

"You mean when it was obvious that there were guys in suits following me in plain sight?"

"Yeah."

Olivia drew back to look at him. "What else are you going to tell me after the wedding?"

"I'll tell you after the wedding."

* * *

After leaving Fitz to finish reading his highly confidential intelligence report, Olivia went to check on the kids; all fast asleep, with the dogs either curled up on beds or lying stretched out on the carpet but alert enough to wag their tails silently when she looked in.

Closing the last bedroom door quietly, Olivia stood for a moment staring blindly at the wooden surface before making her way to the bedroom. The silence was unnerving, so she switched on the TV and began pacing the carpet, before deciding to change out of her clothes and do a bit of yoga to calm her mind.

She was doing the supported yoga headstand when Fitz barged in, and slammed the door shut behind him, prompting her to straighten up instantly.

"Fitz! What's wrong?"

"You went to see Governor Kris Klunkett?!"

Olivia placed her hands on her hips. "Did you get the Secret Service report now? Snail pace. You need to improve their reporting times."

"Olivia, this is not about timing, this about Klunkett - you can't have that man as a client!"

"I have only two words to say to you – Chinese Wall." Olivia stripped off her top and pants, then sauntered off naked to take a shower, leaving a sudden silence behind her.

She had just finished adjusting the water temperature to her ideal when the Fitz entered the shower stall equally naked and glared at her.

"Did you just use your sexy butt to distract me?"

"If that's what you think I did, you would be correct," she said cheekily, sliding her arms around his waist and drawing him close.

"Your hair is getting wet," he murmured huskily, stroking his hands over her the spiralling curls.

"Mmm...a shower cap won't get me in the mood to seduce you."

"Your seduction routine hasn't distracted me from the fact that you went to see Klunkett. He can't be your client."

"Too late."

"Livvie, I don't want him associated too closely with this administration."

"He's not associated with your administration. he's associated with _my_ business. He's trying to solve the media fall-out over a traffic issue."

Fitz gusted a laugh. "Traffic issue? That's the least of his problems. He's being accused of using disaster relief funds to bankroll his own media advertising."

"He didn't tell me about that. Maybe I need to set up a follow-up appointment."

"Olivia, the Housing Inspector General is going to launch a federal investigation. I don't want you anywhere near him."

"Fitzgerald, you agreed to stay out of my business."

He smoothed his hands down her back. "I agreed to let you have a career outside the White House – how do you feel about teaching law at George Washington University?"

"Like my dad? In case you missed the press release – I don't want to be like my dad. I'm trying to be my own person, and to keep doing my job, which is crisis management."

Fitz dropped his head to touch hers. "Can I change my mind about what I said?"

"No."

He smoothed a hand up her belly to cover a breast, stroking his thumb over a nipple. "Livvie..."

She arched towards him, whispering. "Your seduction routine isn't going to change my mind either."

He backed her against the tiled walls, lifting her so she would wrap her legs around his hips. "I haven't even started my seduction routine," he growled, kissing her lazily as her hands swept through his hair and over his shoulders.

"Neither have I," she whispered, tugging at his lower lip, making him forget the topic of conversation.

* * *

"Mr President, we have a problem."

Fitz dragged his thoughts away from a naked, sated Olivia and focused on his security advisors during the customary daily briefing the following morning.

"Our intelligence was correct. North Korea has gone ahead with nuclear test we believed it would carry out. A tremor with a nuclear bomb signature was detected by the China Earthquake Networks Centre, CTBTO and US Geological Survey."

"So this is the F-U we were expecting in response to UN Security Council resolution 2087 expanding the existing sanctions on North Korea including asset freezes and travel bans on North Korean companies and officials."

"Yes, sir. South Korea has increased its military alert status and Japan is calling for an emergency security council meeting. The Chinese government is talking to the North Koreans, and has formally admonished the North Korean ambassador in Beijing.

"Set up a press conference, we'll send a strong message expressing our disapproval."

"But wouldn't it be better for the Secretary of State to give that speech."

"In any other year but an election year, yes."

* * *

"I need a favour."

Huck looked at Olivia warily, "Does it involve me wearing a Tux?"

Olivia frowned in confusion, then said, "I need you to check the financials between Governor Kris Klunkett and the media company that's behind his advertising campaign."

"Governor Klunkett, that's the guy you saw last night."

"Yes, but no one is supposed to know that."

"Is there anything else I shouldn't know?"

"Yes, I need a check on the transaction history of the Governor's Disaster Relief Fund."

"I sent two hundred dollars to that fund."

"Yes, we need to know where your money went."

* * *

"Hi, watcha doing?"

"I'm talking to you.

"Besides talking to me, whatcha doing?"

"I'm working. Whatcha doing?"

"I'm here with Teddy. He wants to hello. Say 'hi' to Mommy, Teddy."

Olivia laughed at the chortles and gurgles she heard over the phone, then Fitz was back. "Will you be home for dinner tonight? Karen and Jerry missed you last night."

"I spoke to them before they went to bed."

"I know you did, but I missed you too."

"You got a very personal goodnight well into the morning."

He grunted and sighed deeply, making Olivia gasp a laugh. "Fitz, you're with Teddy."

"Mm... you're fault."

"Okay, goodbye."

"No, don't go."

"I have to," she said gently, "If you want me home in time for dinner, I have to go."

"I love hearing you talk this way. Say something else in that soft, sexy tone."

"Okay reading off the TV screen: Breaking News, North Korea has conducted another nuclear test in violation of United Nations sanctions. The President is due to speak to the nation and we'll be going live to the White House..."

"That wasn't sexy."

"I know, _and _I know you'll be great at the press conference. I'll be watching."

"I love you, Livvie."

"I love you, Fitz. Kiss Teddy for me." She laughed when she heard his noisy kiss on the other end of the phone.

* * *

It was late when she got back to the Residence. She'd missed dinner and the kids were asleep.

Fitz was still awake, reading when she entered their bedroom. But he put the book and his reading glasses away when she dropped her coat and bag on a chair, kicked off her shoes and crawled onto the bed, fully clothed, to snuggle next to him.

"Good morning," he whispered against her forehead, his arms holding her tight.

She snuffled a laugh. "It's only ten minutes past midnight."

"Long day for you."

"Long day for you, too. Mr Tough-Talking-Sexy President."

"So you were impressed with the press conference?"

"Very impressed. If I wasn't so tired, I'd show just how impressed I am."

They shared a soft laugh, then Fitz murmured, "Tell me what you were up to, then I can be impressed too."

She drew back to look at him, a wry smile touching her lips. "You are so sneaky and so stubborn."

"But you love that about me."

She laughed. "Lucky for you, I'm going to tell you what I've been up to today." She scrambled off the bed and reached for her bag, taking out a USB stick. "Governor Klunkett's financial records and correspondence. Now you can tell the Inspector General where to start looking."

Fitz stared at her for a long moment. Then he took hold of her hand, holding the USB stick, and tugged her down beside him. "I thought he was a client."

Olivia sighed. "Sally wanted me to talk to him, and I thought there might be an advantage for you if I did… but I saw some of his emails. Ones he sent after our meeting last night, he was talking about us. About me, and it wasn't kind…" She smiled when Fitz kissed her cheek roughly, drawing her closer. "It's okay, I'm not upset, and I would have overlooked those emails, if he hadn't taken money out of the disaster relief fund and put it straight into the personal account of the CEO whose agency handled his television ads."

Fitz gave her another kiss, then took the stick from her hand and placed it on the night-table. Olivia narrowed her gaze on him when he started taking off her clothes. "Fitz, are you angry?"

His hands stilled. "No. I'm not angry. I'm... I had this whole speech prepared about why you needed to give up your job. But you've spent the whole day helping me in mine, that I can't say what I want to right now." He looked at her wearily, "Livvie, you're brilliant, and you're brilliant at what you do. I just… I miss you."

"So you want me to give up my job?"

"No, I've been thinking about giving up mine. Pulling out of the campaign to run for a second term. "

"Fitz! You can't! You have to run. Do you want to live in a country run by Sallys or Klunketts or Restons? I don't."

"If I lose, that argument is moot."

"If you lose, we can move to Canada or France – I hear they're in need of a good crisis manager over there."

Fitz gave her a rueful smile. "So we're at an impasse on the Chinese Wall again?"

She leaned forward and kissed him. "Yes."

* * *

**A/N: I agree with the reviews! I did lose the wit (not sure where it went) and the story has been slow because I was exploring the angst (and then had a crisis of confidence: no jokes AND no sex! How will I do this?). **

**Also in the last story, I had a lot of fun hating Mellie - which showed in my writing. But I still think she needed to go - kaput, not Switzerland. Otherwise OLITZ wouldn't be a true love story, where they explore their relationship without the props she provides.**

**But one of the problems is that I've been trying to resurrect the 'fun' of the last story, instead of exploring the deeper issues as a new story – (leave the past behind!) – and simply get on with issues that I feel Olivia would face (i.e. embracing the difficulties).**

**And as my kind readers have encouraged: I should embrace the current difficulties because there are so many other themes to explore in this situation - not just the interracial aspect (which is HUGE!) but also what it means for Olivia to become First Lady (ornamental); what it means for OPA; etc. **

**Nor do I think Olivia loves Fitz less (either on the show or this story). She just loves differently. For Fitz love is, ****NOT**** letting go of the person because they work better as a couple; for Olivia it is, ****letting go**** of the person because she see doesn't want Fitz to gain her and lose everything else. People are different and I guess part of loving someone else is to accept the way they love you – as long as they are not abusive (either mentally or physically). **

**Also unfortunately, I do have to keep attempting the cloak and dagger stuff because this is politics and politics is all about scheming but I need to bring badass Olivia back eventually, but at the same time convey that this is a new (uncertain) phase in her life (just like mine - OMG I'm projecting! Now, I know what's wrong!). On that note, hopefully by chapter 357, I would have ironed out the kinks. :))))**

**But again THANK YOU ALL because your feedback and encouragement is better than a writing class!**

**In the meantime, here's my research stuff: **

**CTBTO stands for Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty Organisation.**

**The nuclear test stuff is hashed mash or mashed hash taken from : ****_Chronology of U.S.-North Korean Nuclear and Missile Diplomacy_****- Arms Control Association website from an article published April 2013; ****_2013 North Korean nuclear test_**** on Wikipedia; government press release: ****_FACT SHEET: The UN Security Council Responds to North Korea's Launch_****- released Jan 23, 2013; ****_International reactions to the 2013 North Korean nuclear test _****- Wikipedia.**

**And as usual the fictional Klunkett was based on the article****_: Christie Allegedly Diverted Millions In Hurricane Sandy Relief Funds To Pay For TV Ads Starring Himself_**** - Igor volsky published on Think Progress, Jan 13, 2014**


	6. Revised Priorities

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"So Klunkett's been arrested for ethics violations and contravening the Fair Campaign Practices Act. My, my, and that's all before breakfast," Hollis licked a bit of creamy mustard that had escaped his gettysburger onto his thumb. " I'll be guessing that the name Olivia Pope is giving you heartburn right now, Ms Langston."

Sitting opposite Hollis in the limousine heading towards Capitol Hill, Sally Langston cast a sour look. "Klunkett was dispensable. He had delusions of grandeur that I was no longer willing to entertain. Once I discovered that he was stealing money from the destitute, I knew he had to go."

Hollis paused in the act of taking another bit of his burgher, and chortled. "My, my. I do believe I have underestimated the lengths you will go to smite your enemies, Sal."

"I would bear that in mind, Hollis."

"Oh, you don't scare me, Madam Vice President. In fact, it gives me a fuzzy warm glow right down to my custom-made alligator boots to recognise a kindred spirit."

"We have nothing in common except a desire for power. The difference is that I desire it out of Christian goodness, while you are pursuing the seven deadly sins."

"Now, Sal," Hollis burped. "I am almost inclined to feel insulted, because sloth has never been one of my vices."

"Ah, a glimmer of salvation in the cesspit of your soul."

"Don't you worry about my soul, Sally. You'll need more than prayers to get to where you want to go. And I'm talking about them pearly gates of the White House."

"Hollis Doyle, I can assure you that I won't stop until I get my name in that particular Book of Life."

* * *

"Where'd he go?"

"He went into that men's clothing boutique."

"Right. Let's go," Abby grabbed Quinn's elbow and pulled her forward, but Quinn dug her boots into the snow-scattered side walk.

"We can't go in there! It'll be obvious we're following him!"

"Why would it be obvious? We could be going in there to buy a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yeah, for Harrison."

They entered the boutique, pausing when everyone turned to look at the two of them clattering their way in, on polished wooden floorboards. Then Abby hissed, "Don't look so suspicious!"

"_Me_?! That smile is so fake, even a toothpaste commercial would pass."

Before Abby could explode, a sales assistant glided towards them with a pleasant smile. "Ladies, how can I help you today?"

"We're buying a gift," Quinn muttered.

"A tie," Abby said. "Got any of those?"

The man winced, but kept his smile intact. "We have several. If you would care to come this way."

They were about to follow, when Quinn stopped abruptly and hissed, "The eagle is flying!"

Both the assistant and Abby looked at her strangely.

"The eagle we've been chasing," Quinn said fiercely, looking at Abby. "Flap, flap – out, out!" She jerked her head towards the door.

"Oh, that eagle. Yeah, sorry, that tie will have to wait. We've got an eagle to catch," Abby told the worried looking assistant, as she grabbed Quinn's elbow and dragged her out of the store. Only to come to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, seeing James Novak standing there, waiting.

"Why are you following me?" he demanded without preamble.

"We're not following you!" Abby protested.

"Yeah, we went in there to buy a tie," Quinn asserted.

"So where's the tie?"

The women looked at each other, then Quinn said archly, "We couldn't find anything we liked."

"For your S&M party?"

"Yes," said Abby.

"No!" Quinn glared at her. "It was a gift for Harrison."

James studied both women with a cynical gaze. "Nice try. But I'm an investigative reporter, and I've been followed by professionals. The two of you aren't professionals."

"We're professionals!" Abby glared at him.

"_Professional _lawyers," Quinn stressed.

"So I'll ask you again why are you following me? Did Olivia put you up to this?"

"No! This is all Abby's idea," Quinn muttered.

Abby scowled. "What Lindsay meant to say is that we want to help you organise Olivia's wedding."

"Olivia's wedding? That's why you're following me?"

The other two nodded.

"So you want to give up your day jobs earning $1000 an hour, to help me organise a wedding for free? And Olivia's okay with this?"

"It's a surprise, and we're doing this in our spare time," Abby shrugged.

"Because we need hobbies," Quinn said blandly.

"How many weddings have you organised?"

"None," they both said, then Abby snapped, "How many weddings have you organised?"

"One."

"Got anyone helping you?"

"No."

"So you need our help, and we're here to help, seems like a done deal to me," Quinn shrugged.

"Yeah, done deal," Abby said emphatically.

The three looked at each other, then James sighed, "Well, I could use the help. There is a lot to get done and we've got so little time."

"Okay, so where should we start?" Quinn asked.

"Wait, I'm curious," Abby frowned. "How did you know we were following you?"

"You've been following me since I left Ella at Day care. I saw you on the Metro, then at the deli and organic market. And it's hard to miss the two of you when you're wearing identical deerstalker hats, and those sun-glasses when it's six-degrees and cloudy out here."

* * *

"It was kind of calming at the beginning seeing you pace."

"Like seeing fish swimming in a tank."

"But you're still doing it and we're concerned. What's going on, Liv?"

Arms crossed over her chest, Oliva came to standstill and looked at Harrison and Huck waiting just inside the doorway to her office, their faces creased with identical frowns of worry.

"I'm trying to figure out how I can be this person: juggling my job, my new role as the President's wife and the mother of three children, possibly four."

Harrison angled a look at her. "Wait... are you saying... has the stork paid you a visit?"

Olivia and Huck stared at him in confusion, then Harrison said carefully, "You know, this…" He cradled an imaginary baby in his arms.

"Oh! No!" Olivia laughed. "No, the stork hasn't visited! We're not going there yet. I was talking about Peter, Jerry's friend. He'll be staying with us during the holidays." She perched on the edge of her desk. "I'm just worried that I won't be able to manage it all."

"Liv, you're the fixer. You've handled dictators, gangsters, murderers and government spies. You can handle a bunch of kids."

"And the President. He likes you handling him."

Olivia and Harrison looked at Huck, he stared back at them impassively, then Harrison said, "You need to step back, Liv. You said you were going to, but you've been doing more hours since you made that announcement. So take the day off. Take the week off. Actually take as much time off as you need. We'll handle things around here."

"Yeah. Go home, Liv."

"I just feel like I... can't."

"You can." Harrison went to get her coat and scarf, while Huck got her bag and her phone. Then they bundled her out of the office. "See it's easy, now put one foot in front of the other and go."

"What if—"

"We'll handle it," Harrison said.

"Yeah, I got my tools here."

"We don't need your tools."

"I'm prepared for the worst."

"Even if the worst happens, we're not going to need your tools."

"Okay, I'm leaving." Olivia smiled, shaking her head as she headed towards the elevator.

* * *

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Miss me?"

"No."

"_No_?!"

"Not since I got my blow-up doll as a replacement for my real fiancée who has become a figment of my imagination."

"Okay, just for that, I'm re-thinking telling you about my surprise."

"What surprise?"

"I'd tell you, but since you've replaced me with a blow-up doll..."

"I could never replace you. You are irreplaceable. Now tell me."

"Mmm... no."

"Livvie...! I'm crazy about you. I miss you. I spend half my day imagining you naked, I did that this morning, in the middle of the cabinet meeting."

"_Half_ your day? What about the other half?"

"I imagine all the things I'll do to you the next time I see you naked, which will be summer, I know. Or spring, if I'm really lucky."

"Fitz! Stop trying to guilt me into quitting my job!"

"No. Now tell me about the surprise."

"Be at the Fort Dupont Ice Arena at three-thirty."

There was a silence, then he chuckled. "Was that an order or an invitation?"

"You tell me since you're the one issuing a lot of orders lately. I thought I'd return the favour – so you know how your minions feel."

"My blow-up doll doesn't mind me giving orders. She respects a man in command."

"Really? Then you better start dreaming about her too. Because it'll be winter, possibly 2020, before you see me naked."

"Ouch."

"Yep."

"So three-thirty at Fort Dupont ice rink, Ms Minion?"

"Winter 2035."

* * *

Fitz was still grinning over the phone call as he shrugged on his coat, preparing to leave for his impromptu date with Olivia, when his security advisors barged into the Oval Office.

"Sir, the Iranian President has sent word that he's willing to talk to you!"

"The Iranian President? The guy who has been avoiding me during his official visit here? The guy who even skipped the United Nations luncheon a few days ago so he wouldn't have to see me – that guy?"

"Yes, sir, that guy."

"Huh, guess those talks between John and the Foreign Minister really were constructive. So when's he coming over?"

"He, uh, wants you to call him. And, uh, he's on his way to the airport in New York."

Fitz gave a narrowed eyed stare until one of the advisors said diffidently, "Sir, the last time a United States President spoke to an Iranian leader was in 1979 – when President Jimmy Carter called Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi."

"I know. This is historic. I get that...Okay. Let's do this. And get Lauren in here. I need her to call Olivia."

* * *

Olivia shifted in the seat, looking at her watch, waiting in the Secret Service vehicle that had arrived to pick up the kids from school. She then sat forward, seeing them walk out the school gates; Karen eagerly dragging on Jerry's hand, while he looked bored.

The kids were halfway into the car before they saw her, then Karen yelled, "Mommy!" before scrambling onto Olivia's lap to give her a hug.

Laughing, Olivia hugged her back, then looked at Jerry.

The smile that had automatically lit up his face at seeing Olivia, had been wiped off by the time he took his seat beside her and asked with a quizzical frown, "Wait, who are you again?"

"Silly, this is Mom," Karen giggled, her arms wrapped around Olivia's neck.

"She feels like Mom," Jerry prodded Olivia's arm, then said, "Say 'aaah'?"

"Aaaah," Olivia obliged.

'And she sounds like Mom, but it's been days since we've actually seen her, so we can't really be sure it's Mom."

Olivia reached out to take his hand. "Jer, I'm sorry I've been working late the last few days, and I haven't seen you guys as much. But I'll do better, starting today. Promise," Olivia squeezed his hand and kissed Karen's cheek. "So forgive me?"

"Forgiven." Karen kissed her back. Only Jerry remained staring at her with narrow-eyed suspicion. "What's special about today?"

"Today is special, because I've booked a private session at the Fort Dupont ice rink and you have it all to yourselves for a couple of hours."

"I love ice-skating!" Karen cried gleefully, hugging Olivia again.

"Yeah, but Mom doesn't," Jerry smirked. "Wow. You really are trying to make it up to us, aren't you?"

"So are we okay?"

"Yeah," Jerry slid his arm around Olivia's shoulders. "If you throw in a couple of RibRitos, I'll be okay with you doing another couple of all-nighters at work."

* * *

**A/N: So I've filched the historic conversation President Barack Obama had with Iranian President Hassan Rouhani in September for Fitz. (BTW, it truly pains me to keep giving this stellar moments to a Republican President, but you know I keep thinking of Fitz as a closet Democrat. Not that any actual Democratic President has caught the world's imagination as much as Barack Obama in my living memory). Anyway, if you're interested in reading about the real-life conversation, see ****_ U.S. and Iran Agree to Speed Talks to Defuse Nuclear Issue_**** by Peter Baker, published in The New York Times on Sep 27, 2013.**

**Also the hourly rate was referenced from the article: _Jill Kelley Retains High Profile Crisis Manager, Despite Reportedly Being In Debt_ by Elizabeth Flock, in US News published Nov, 21, 2012. Apparently Judy Smith can charge between $300-$800 an hour for her services according to that article, I figured that it should be about $1000 now, with inflation factored in (yes, calculated at South Sudan's inflation rates which according to Wikipedia is 79%).**

**BTW, thank you for letting me bombard you with my love of all things Politic – heh, heh… I am stockpiling soap boxes as we speak!**

**Aaaand THANK YOUUUUU SO MUCH for all your comments )))) *sniff* you guys are the best – and I would encourage every closet writer to break out on the Scandal FanFiction site. It will be a truly life-changing experience!**


	7. Media Spectre

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

_"...What she did is the trending topic this morning after Ms Olivia Pope, the President's Fiancee shut down the Fort Dupont Ice Arena in Washington DC yesterday for herself and the President's children. Eyewitnesses say the President's two oldest children Fitzgerald IV and Karen Grant were still in their school uniforms. Did they ditch school to go ice-skating with their soon-to-be Step Mom? The school and White House won't comment. But here's a picture of Ms Pope looking very chic in a grey wool cashmere cape coat, grey elbow length gloves, black designer pants and black dress shoes. Lovely, faultless attire for crisis management, but hardly suitable for an afternoon ice-skating..."_

_"...She closed the rink for two hours. Yes, that's right, Two whole hours, and those poor kiddies missed hockey practice because of it. I mean really, the whole rink?! The rental rules say groups of less than 15 people don't need private ice times and should use the public skating sessions. Maybe my eyes need testing – I don't see 15 people. I see three. Let me count that again – 1, 2, 3. Yep, I still got three. So two hours private time for three people. Well, it's one rule for them, and another for us, folks. That's all I can say..." _

_"...So now the issue is Ms Pope vs an ice rink. She rented the ice rink for herself and the President's kids for a couple of hours and that's caused a public meltdown. Hello, we're talking the President's kids. Those kids can't take a stroll in the park without Secret Service agents checking every jogger and dog walker as a possible threat. Now, I don't know about you but I'd rather they had the rink to themselves. I for one don't want my every clumsy move watched by a dozen Secret Service Agents with the right to shoot me if I trip and crash dive anywhere near those kids..."_

Olivia switched off the TV, and leaned over to press a light kiss on his rough cheek, trying not to disturb Fitz, but he stirred, cracking an eye open as her weight shifted off the bed.

"Why are you dressed?" he rasped, his sleepy gaze wondering over her chunky sweater, all the way down her jeans, to her suede boots.

"I'm taking the kids to school. And you need to sleep in. Cyrus said your daily briefing has been pushed back an hour."

"Don't need sleep, need you," Fitz groaned, holding out his hand to her.

Grinning she returned to the bed, shifting to lie over him on the covers, as his arms gathered her close.

She combed gentle fingers through his hair. "You need to go back to sleep you worked late last night, and you, um..._ celebrated._..until the early hours of the morning."

"Come back to bed. I'm still in the mood to celebrate." His lips locked with hers, softly, gently, sweetly.

"Can't...kids...school."

He smiled against her lips. "Stubborn..."

"Mm…" she drew back, warmth curling in her belly as he brushed back a stray curl that had escaped her pony tail..

"So you're serious about not going to work today?"

"Yep."

"And you're spending more time with me and the kids?"

"The kids, mostly. You've got your blow-up doll."

She gasped a laugh then shrieked a protest as he tickled her. "Fitz, don't! No!" She nearly fell off the bed in her rush to get away. Then straightening her sweater, she said pertly, "The kids will be late. I have to go."

"Give me a kiss."

"No, you lost your kissing privileges with that tickle attack."

Then she shrieked a laugh when he threw back the covers and chased after her as she ran across the room.

"Fitz!" She held him back, laughing, as he crowded her against the door; then said with mock sternness, "You're the leader of the free world."

He kissed her.

"... You can't run around naked."

He kissed her again, pressing into her.

She moaned softly, standing on tip-toe to accommodate him. "We can't do this now..." she whispered, stroking his face.

"I know..." He rested his forehead against hers. "The kids are waiting."

"Yes..." she kissed his chin. "Maybe... after..."

Then she shrieked again when he lifted her off her feet and hugged her.

* * *

"Mom, what are you going to do today, if you're not going to work?" Karen asked, her hand tucked firmly in Olivia's, as they travelled with the Secret Service to school.

"Dad's got plans for her," Jerry said with a smirk, then blushed when Olivia turned to him in shock.

"You were listening?"

"You guys weren't exactly quiet. I could hear you down the hall," Jerry muttered, shifting his gaze away.

"Except he was standing outside your door," Karen whispered loudly.

"Hey! I just wanted to make sure Mom remembered that she was taking us to school," Jerry insisted, looking at Karen.

"I didn't forget," Olivia murmured, her cheeks still hot.

"I know."

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Olivia cleared her throat and said, "I'm going to meet James today, check on his plans for the wedding."

"Mom, I wanted to be there for that too," Karen pouted.

"I'll tell you all about it tonight, Baby K, and you can help me decide what to wear."

"Can I invite my friends?" Jerry asked, still a bit red around the ears.

"Peter is invited."

"He means can he bring his _girl_friend."

"I do not have a girlfriend," Jerry glared at Karen. "She's just a friend."

"A _special _friend."

"Baby K, have you got any special friends you'd like to invite?"

Karen shook her head.

"Yeah, you do. There's that kid you keep trying to avoid at recess," Jerry grinned.

"He is not_ my friend._ He's annoying. He pulls my hair in class, and he keeps giving me yukky chewing gum that's stuck together."

"Do you take it?"

"Yes, I don't want to hurt his feelings. But he's annoying, so maybe I should."

"Tell him you don't like chewing gum, the next he offers."

"Okay."

"So chewing gum boy doesn't need an invite," Olivia confirmed as Karen shook her head vehemently.

"Nor does anyone I know," Jerry muttered.

"Right, then it will just be us; my guys at work plus Cyrus and his family, since James is organising the wedding, and Tom."

Jerry looked surprised. "That's it? Mom, don't you want more people? Alice Roosevelt, President Theodore Roosevelt's oldest daughter, had one thousand guests."

"I think the Secret Service would like us to have much less than that."

* * *

"In light of the fact that North Korea has just threatened all out war against the United States, it is imperative that we do not show fear," Sally said stridently, sitting on the couch across from Fitz in the Oval office.

"Conciliation is not showing fear, Sally. It is avoiding a greater disaster. Fortunately, the Chinese government agrees with me. It is in all our best interests to avoid an escalation that will lead to a nuclear Armageddon."

"That heathen is not open to reason. He behaves like a child, throwing tantrums from his seat of power. There is a need for us to show him the might of our convictions, as we did with Iraq."

"Sally, in the 10 years since we invaded Iraq with battle cries of stability and democracy, we have lost nearly 4500 US military lives. US taxpayers have spent over $800 billion fighting a war that has displaced 1.24 million Iraqis within the country, and created an additional 1.6 million refugees. And let's not mention the fact that we don't even know the exact figure of civilian deaths which range between 112,00 to over 120,000. We don't need history to repeat itself."

"If that man shoots a nuclear warhead at us imagine the catastrophe it will cause our nation. We have 315 million people living in the United States, that's nearly 10 times the 33 million people living in Iraq. That means it will be 10 times worse if we sit back and wait for that man to carry out his threats."

"If we retaliate, imagine the devastation it will cause the 4.3 billion people living on the world's most populous continent. And not just for Asia but for us here in the Unites States. A nuclear war in the South East Asian region would release carbon aerosol particles that would cut our Soybean and Corn production by 10 per cent over a decade. The report I read was projecting the outcomes from an imaginary war between India and Pakistan, but it doesn't make it any less applicable in current circumstances, especially when it anticipates that China's wheat crop will halve in the first year after a nuclear war."

"Fitzgerald, you cannot govern this nation based on reports from armchair experts who have not stepped out of their elitist ivory towers in at least two decades."

"This report is by the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War and Physicians for Social Responsibility, people who try mend those we break. I do think they are worth listening to."

"So we are back to sitting and waiting for the Chinese government do the Lord's work with that demon child?"

"Yes."

"In time we will see how this regrettable course of action will pan out."

"Yes." Fitz sat forward, preparing to stand, but paused when Sally said brightly, "And how are the wedding plans coming along."

"Very well."

"Have you decided on the officiant for your wedding ceremony. I only ask as I may be able to assist, if you are having difficulty choosing a suitable minister because you and Olivia are of different denominations, are you not?"

"Olivia and I have decided on a civil ceremony."

Sally's eyes widened in shock. "A civil ceremony? Here in the White House? At the wedding of a Republican President?"

"I don't see a problem."

"I know you do not, and that is your problem Fitzgerald. You miss the nuances that have the potential to start as ripples and end as a Tsunami. A civil ceremony is opening the door to a pandemic legalising same-sex marriage in every state across this country."

Fitz spared a wry smile. "Sally, same-sex marriage is not that revolutionary a concept since Massachusetts made it legal in 2004. As of this month, same sex couples can marry in 16 states in this country, with Illinois coming on board in June. It's even legal here in the District of Columbia. So I really can't see a problem."

"Sixteen, possibly, 17 states and the District of Columbia do not add up to 50 states. And if you were to marry Olivia Pope in a civil ceremony that would sent a signal to the other 33 that the Federal Government supports that abomination."

When Fitz raised a brow, Sally said in exasperated tone. "You cannot be naive enough to think otherwise. I am surprised your wedding planner has not advised you of the repercussions, if she or he has any experience in the political sphere. Who is this person, if I may ask?'

"It is no secret, Sally. James Novak has volunteered to help."

"Is he famous? Where have I heard that name?"

"James was a White House correspondent and he's married to Cyrus Beene."

"That homosexual? Oh, now it becomes clear - you mean to use your marriage to smite at the very heart of our core beliefs in the Republican party! Ignoring our duty to uphold the sanctity and values of traditional American morals! And the sanctity and tradition of marriage between a man and a woman!"

After Sally had spat the last word at him, Fitz waited a couple of minutes before saying calmly, "I, a man, am marrying Olivia, a woman, in a civil ceremony not as a political statement but as a matter of choice. This is not America's marriage, this is mine and Olivia's. But beyond that if my marriage does encourage acceptance of the greater diversity among our people, all our people, then I welcome it."

With that Fitz got to his feet. "Thank you, Sally, this has been a most constructive discussion. We must do this again sometime."

"Oh believe me, we will!"

* * *

Fitz was staring out the Oval Office windows with a grim jaw, when he heard the door open behind him, and Olivia entered with Teddy in her arms.

"Hi," she smiled closing the door.

Instantly, he was making his way across the room, reaching out to lift Teddy in his arms as he bent low to kiss her fiercely; catching her stark stare of concern as he kissed Teddy's cheek.

But she didn't say a word while he settled Teddy on the rug and she lay out the toys she'd carried in a bag with of baby supplies.

It was only after Teddy was happily distracted by his toy truck, that Olivia looked at Fitz and murmured, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lying propped up on his elbow on the carpet, a pose mirrored by Olivia, Fitz reached across the space between them to tap her nose. "No, not right now."

She caught his hand. "Talk to me."

He rubbed his thumb over her skin, but she wouldn't be distracted. "Talk to me, Fitz."

He sighed. "Sally was not happy to hear that we're having a civil ceremony. She thinks it will open the door to a pandemic of same-sex marriage legislation across the country."

That made her smile. "Great!"

"Yeah, great," Fitz smiled wanly, "I'm just concerned about the push back from the few voters I have left on my side – after my stance on gun control."

She tightened her grip on his hand but her voice was soft as she asked, "Do you want to have a minister officiate our wedding?"

He shifted his gaze from Teddy to look up at her. "No." He moved closer, bringing her hand to his lips, then holding it against his heart. "I just... I don't know."

She looked at him, stroking gentle fingertips over his shirt which he found oddly soothing, then she said slowly, "We don't really know how people would react to the idea of our civil marriage. They probably won't react the same as Sally."

"We don't have time to conduct a poll."

"I'm not talking about a poll. I'm saying that we're going about this the wrong way. Our relationship has been in the media spotlight for months, and now we're trying to reverse the clock, and be discreet. But I think we need to start talking to people again. Get our story out there ourselves, not through the filter of Sally or the Right Wing commentators.

Fitz sat up, frowning. "You want all the crazies to come out of the woodwork?"

"It's time we faced the crazies."

* * *

**A/N: So I do occasionally remember that Scandal is set during the time of a Republican President (who shouldn't be credited with all the good things achieved by the actual Democrat currently in office). So here I'm pretending that the following didn't occur: On May 9, 2012, President Obama became the first sitting president to publicly declare support for same-sex legislation; On Sep 20, 2011, President Obama repealed the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy for gays and lesbians serving in the US Military.**

**The other stuff contributing to Fitz and Sally's conversation were stolen from : ****_What Australia owes Iraq 10 years after the war began_**** - Dr Benjamin Isakhan published in Crikey on Mar 25, 2013; ****_Iraq 10 years on: In numbers _****on BBC News Middle East, published Mar 20, 2013; ****_and India-Pakistan Nuclear War Would Kill 2 Billion People, End Civilization: Report _****by Palash Ghosh published in International Business Times on December 10 2013.**


	8. Web One Oh

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"You want the White House to go Web 2.0," Cyrus repeated looking from Olivia to Fitz. "What is that – some kind of Spiderman lingo for putting solar panels on the roof? Eating more greens? Adopt an Arachnid Day? What?"

"The White House needs to enter the 21st century. We need to embrace social media in all its platforms. We need to hire a tech team and we need to do it now," Fitz explained.

Cyrus got to his feet and walked over to the Resolute Desk and pick up the half-filled glass and sniffed. "What is this - Vodka?"

"It's water, Cyrus," Fitz smiled wryly. "Besides this is Olivia's idea." He smiled at her, sitting beside him on the couch.

"Right," Cyrus walked back to Olivia, placing a hand on her forehead. "Hmm. no detectable temperature to indicate delirium…"

"I'm not delirious."

Cyrus dropped his hand and glared at her. "Are you crazy?! Right now we're in the middle of Fitz declaring war on the gun lobby, Wall Street and Christian fundamentalism. We have North Korea threatening a nuclear attack and we have your wedding. Now you want to start some kind of technological revolution? Do you realise this is only _January_!"

Fitz tickled Teddy's chin making the toddler gurgle happily. "Cy, you know the nuclear threat is just a scare tactic - North Korea is trying to prevent us from pushing through an extension of UN sanctions. And I'm not attacking Christian fundamentalism, that's Sally creating a mountain when there wasn't even a molehill."

"See, these messages aren't getting through to the people. That's why we need to get started as soon as possible. And we need James to help us," Olivia said.

"James? My husband James – who's already going through one mid-life crisis as a wedding planner? Now you want him to have another trying to be Steve Jobs or Bill Gates?"

"More like Mark Zuckerberg or David Karp." When Cryus looked at Olivia blankly, she shrugged, "James is a reporter. We need someone qualified to report on what's going on. He can submit content, and our job will be to find the people who can set up the platform."

"And you're okay with this?" Cyrus turned on Fitz who had been watching Olivia through the whole exchange with a faint smile on his lips, while Teddy chewed on his tie.

"It sounds like a genius plan. I'm happy for Olivia to run with it."

"Before we even tippy-toe towards this spider web, I think Olivia and I need to discuss a few issues," Cyrus stretched out an arm towards the door. "If you don't mind, sir," He told Fitz.

"I'm getting kicked out of my own office?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay," Fitz sighed, looking at Teddy. "Looks like playtime is over, Teds."

He leaned over so he and Teddy could kiss Olivia, then whispered for Cyrus to hear, "Call me if you need to be rescued. We'll be in the Library." He grinned at an apoplectic Cyrus on his way out.

The door had barely closed before Cyrus exploded, "Have you lost your _mind_?! _James_?! _James!_ Have you forgotten that he found out about _Defiance_ and told David Rosen about it?! That he was going to spill his guts to a _Federal Grand Jury_?"

"I haven't forgotten, Cy, that's why I think he should be involved. He would be good at counteracting the attacks in the media with substantive facts, not spin."

"Facts! We don't want people knowing _facts_! We live by spin! We like spin! It's our job to spin! Someone who can lie about facts is what we need!"

"Don't be so hard on James. He used his better judgement at the Grand Jury; he didn't reveal what he knew. I'm sure he'll exercise that same judgement when he's working on our side."

Cyrus sat down, running his hands over his thinning hair. "I feel like I've entered a parallel universe where people use words I understand, without making any _sense_!"

"What isn't making sense? You know the media has been attacking Fitz since his State of the Union address; they've been changing his narrative to look like he's attacking our Constitutional rights. We need to give Fitz a platform, so his message reaches people in a way he can control. We need to do this, Cy. Actually we need to have done this yesterday."

"Olivia, I know you've been out there in the real world doing your own thing – calling the shots, getting things fixed – all in real-time. But this is the White House, we operate at a far more moderate pace. You may have forgotten that as you were barely here for more than a few months, from Inauguration to the first State of the Union address, but I can tell you this is going to take a lot of work, and it's going to take a lot of time."

"Cy, we need to step up our game and work faster. We can do it, Cy. I'm confident."

* * *

"Sir, we have a problem."

Fitz paused as one of his homeland security advisors stopped him in the passageway. "Another one? What is it this time?"

"The TMG Party is gathering momentum."

"The what party?"

"Sir, they are the pro-Republican Intenet bloggers who've been critical of your SOTU address on gun control. Now they've banded together to drum up support against you and your re-election campaign. They are calling themselves the Too Much Grant Party."

"Wow, I'm honoured."

"And they've added your stance on same-sex marriages to their list of grievances."

"My _stance_ on same-marriage...? I've never expressed my opinions in public on that topic."

"The rumour is that your wedding will greenlight marriage equality for gays and lesbians, eventually leading to a repeal of section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act."

"I'm marrying Olivia in a civil ceremony. How did we get from there to DOMA? Who's feeding them this nonsense?"

"Unofficial White House sources.

"Wait, let me guess unofficial sources connected to the Office of the Vice President."

"We can't say for sure, Sir."

"Dammit, I only spoke to that woman this morning!"

"Social Media is a tinderbox, sir, one spark can start a wildfire in a matter of seconds."

Fitz gritted his teeth, then forced a smile as Teddy touched his jaw with a look of concern.

Then the advisor added, with a worried frown. "What's of concern to us, is that the LGBT groups are jumping in to support you, and there's a potential that the tinderbox situation could hit the streets."

* * *

Once Cyrus had left the Oval Office, unhappily accepting that Olivia wasn't going to budge on the James issue; she packed up Teddy's toddler bag and headed for the Library. Only to see that Fitz and Teddy had been waylaid by a new staffer who had brought his family for a White House visit.

She was debating whether to join them, when Fitz called her over.

Pasting on a smile, Olivia approached, taking his outstretched hand and leaning in closer as Fitz introduced his 'fiancee'. Then on receiving genuine smiles from the group that included the staffer's parents, his wife and his children – she instinctively moved to give each of them a hug in greeting.

"It's so lovely to be back here again," the mother told Olivia, holding onto her hand. "I came here in May 1952 soon after it re-opened to the public after renovations. It was a pivotal moment in my life to be here in the house of the President and his family. And you are such a lovely family, you should open it to the public again."

"Actually, Fitz has been thinking of resuming the public tours..." Olivia's intended glance became fixed on him, once she caught the way he was smiling at her, his gaze soft.

"Yes," Fitz said huskily, never taking his eyes off Olivia. "We've had feedback that the public want the White House tours back and they are happy to go through extra security checks we've put in place after the shooting. So it's in the works. We haven't decided on a firm date yet."

Then one of the teenaged kids asked, "Can we take a group picture?"

"Of course," Fitz grinned, looking away; allowing Olivia take a breath.

There was good-natured laughter as they all took various group shots with different phones. Then Teddy grabbed hold of Olivia's ponytail, and started chewing on a strand of hair. When Fitz tried to swap her hair for his tie, Teddy puckered up and started to cry. Instantly, everyone gathered around to comfort him, which promptly made him bawl.

"Hey, little man, I'm sorry," Fitz groaned, wiping Teddy's tears. "Don't cry."

"It's okay. I've got him. We should get going anyway," Olivia took Teddy from Fitz. "Teddy has a playdate with Ella and we don't want to be late."

Then after hasty good-byes, she hurried away hoping the movement of walking would soothe Teddy, but he continued to bawl until Olivia dug out his truck from the toddler bag and gave it to him. Instantly the tears stopped as he grabbed the toy.

"Good thinking, Ninety-nine!" She heard Fitz call out and turned to see him grinning with relief. Then she laughed as Teddy shouted, "Dah!" and shook his truck, chortling merrily.

* * *

"You want me to do Public Relations for the White House?" James curled his lip as if he had just caught a whiff of rotting fish.

They were in the living room, with Ella and James in a play yard on the rug, throwing stuffed toys at each other.

"It's not PR."

At the sceptical lift of his brow, Olivia added, "Well, it's a little PR but if you're against it, then I'm sure we can find someone else to do that. You can do factual exposes on government policies."

"By government policies, you mean the ones spear-headed by Fitz?"

"Yes, that would be my preferred bias but you can be objective up to a point."

"To the point that I can expose the inaccuracy of any claims made by the government?"

"James, you know every employee should have the protection of his or her employer's whistle-blower policy."

"The White House doesn't have a whistle-blower policy. In fact it has legislation and policies to prevent whistle-blowing of any kind."

"Yes. I am aware of that," Olivia smiled at James, who gave her wry look.

Then he said thoughtfully, "You know what the best thing is about all this?"

"You will be working with your husband?"

"No! That's likely to turn me off the whole idea."

"You can take Ella to work and Teddy will have a playmate?"

"That's lovely, but that's not it."

"The White House staff benefits?"

"No, what's lovely about all this is that, I came and told you that I was having a career crisis and here you are trying to fix it. You know I think I might actually like you."

Olivia laughed, feeling her cheeks heat. She picked a few stray cookie crumbs off her jeans and placed them on her plate. "So you'll take the job?"

James nodded. "Because I know Cyrus will be dead against it."

That made her laugh. "I can't wait to see you two work together."

"Just make sure you're wearing a flak jacket and the kids are in the bunker. Now…" He patted her knee. "Let's talk about the plans you've avoiding – for your wedding."

"I haven't been avoiding talking about my wedding."

"Olivia, please – I am familiar with the symptoms of cold feet. Cyrus had a severe case of it leading up to, during and after our wedding."

"I love Fitz."

"I know you do. I can see that you do."

"I just don't love the idea of being First Lady."

"Didn't you factor that in when you said yes to the bling?" James indicated her engagement ring.

"Yes, but I didn't foresee that it would all happen so quickly."

There was another long moment of silence, then James said gently, "Do you want to postpone the wedding?"

"I couldn't. I wouldn't. It would break his heart."

James looked at her. "So we're doing this?"

"We're doing this."

"Good," He patted her hand again. "Then we haven't wasted time putting this together." He went off to collect a thick binder of clippings, fabric swatches, photographs and business cards.

"Wow, you've done a lot of work."

"I had help."

"You're paying people to help you?"

"No, they're volunteers."

"Wow. That's amazing."

"Yes, it's been a bundle of joy so far."

* * *

_"What he did is the trending topic this morning. According to Senior White House officials, the President yesterday expressed his support for marriage equality, a marked shift from entrenched Republican views on LGBT rights. This has concerned several key Republican supporters, including a group of social media bloggers, calling themselves the TMG Party - Too Much Grant Party. You guessed it they don't want President Grant in office for a second term..."_

_"Not a good day at the White House yesterday. First Mr President goes and sinks his re-election boat. That's right, the guy doesn't just rock the boat, he goes and ploughs a great big hole in the hull, with a proposal to repeal DOMA. And if that wasn't enough, the Fiancee, the lovely Ms Pope, makes America's baby, little Theodore Wallace Grant, cry. Don't believe me – here's the picture worth a thousand words – tells its own story, doesn't it? Ms Pope grabbing the little kiddie making him bawl his eyes out. I call it a disgrace! Has anyone called the Child Abuse Hotline?!..."_

_"Heaven forbid that another disenfranchised group gets even a hope of equality. Yes, there are some folk in this country who aren't sleeping nights worrying about minorities having the same rights they enjoy. Gotta love it – living here in the Land of the Free. Oh, and then there's the First Fiancee, here's the picture that's doing the rounds on other news sites. But here's the photo they aren't showing you –the little boy chewing happily on his truck, laughing in Olivia Pope's arms. Just remember that one picture doesn't always tell the whole story..."_

Fitz switched the TV off and looked down at Olivia who was fixing his tie. "I'm beginning to see merit in your idea of having a White House media platform."

She paused her hands on the knot, frowning. "Beginning?"

He flushed. "Wrong choice of word."

"No, right choice of word. You are beginning to see the merit now, because you were humouring me before."

"I didn't say that."

"So I'm right," she muttered, dropping her hands and pushing him away, but he caught her by the waist.

"Livvie, I know it's been tough, the idea of giving up your independence, taking a step back from your career. I just wanted you to have a project to be in charge, to distract you from your doubts."

She slid her hands up around his shoulders. "So you were humouring with good intentions - that's your defence?"

"If I say 'yes', do I get off with a slap on the wrist?"

"Hm..." Let me think about it."

Just then the door was thrust open and Jerry barged in.

"Jer, what did I tell you about knocking?" Fitz admonished.

Jerry paused, rolled his eyes and walked out, shutting the door after him. "Knock, knock," he called out.

"Who's there?" Fitz and Olivia answered.

Jerry cracked the door open. "Very funny, you two. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come in," Fitz said with exaggerated resignation.

"Hey, Dad. I'm here to help you. Well, Mom actually. You know those pictures they have of Teddy crying. The kid who took the pictures has sent the entire lot to me. I'm just letting you know that I'm posting them on my Facebook and Tumblr pages, and put a Twitter link so they can read what happened."

Olivia arched a brow at Fitz. "See?"

"I told you I've seen the light."

"The Light on what?" Jerry frowned at Fitz.

"Your Dad is realising the value of social media."

"For real? Dad? Wow."

"Hey, I can be cool." When his audience didn't respond, Fitz chuckled. "Come on, be nice."

"Yeah, well you know if you need help with the transition from the Obelisk to Online communication, let me know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can set up a Twitter account for you, Dad. It's only 140 characters max a post, so you should be able to manage that."

"Do that," Olivia grinned. "Fitz Grant, with the intro 'for the people'"

"I like that. Makes me sound really cool!"

* * *

"There has been a sharp spike in incidents against LGBT members, Sir."

Fitz took in the worried faces of his security advisors, and sighed. "Have the perpetrators been arrested?"

"A few.

"Those that have been caught."

"We are concerned that what's happening in Russia and Nigeria will manifest in the United States."

"This government will not be passing any anti-gay laws," Fitz refuted firmly.

"It's not the laws so much as the community attitude that gay-bashing is okay."

"Especially since the group that's been advocating anti-gay legislation around the world is based in the United States."

There was a sudden pin-dropping silence. Then Fitz said, "Go on."

The advisor who had spoken, cleared his throat and continued, "Sir, it's an organisation calling itself the Global Unity for Families. They've been lobbying governments to pass anti-gay legislation here and overseas. So far they've had more success overseas at a Federal level. They even lobbied against countries signing the 2008 United Nations Statement de-criminalising homosexuality worldwide. Now it looks like they're coordinating hate groups here, using the prospect of a repeal of DOMA as the catalyst."

Fitz groaned, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. "Why haven't I heard of this group?"

"Sir, the founder was a Reagan appointee, and he has a lot of supporters in the Republican Party."

* * *

"If only there was a way I could get them declared as a Terrorist group."

"So you can stop their fund-raising activities under United Nations resolution 1373? Kill the source that feeds the beast?"

"Yes," Fitz smiled at Olivia, as they walked arm in arm under the trees on the South Lawn.

"You'll have to expand the definition of terrorism to lobby groups who incite hatred through national and international legislation."

"You don't think I should?"

"Fitz, I think people will see this as another attack on their freedoms under the United States Constitution."

"Right now we have a conflict between the 1st and 14th Amendments – people's right to religious freedom and free speech versus their right to equal protection under the law within State jurisdiction. And we have States arguing that the 14th Amendment right of equal protection is limited to gender and race, not behaviour, in order to overturn Federal rulings that gay-marriage bans are unconstitutional. People's rights are under attack, Livvie, and it's not coming from me. "

"I know historians say that the 14th Amendment was included in the Constitution specifically to protect slaves in the Southern States from violence, but that didn't prevent the horrors from occurring. The laws are only as good as our ability to make sure justice is done. Putting this group on a Federal watch list that only a few people know about isn't going to be effective."

"So what do we do?"

"You have two options, Fitz – you can play it safe until the election. Then after you win a second term—"

"_If_ I win a second term."

"_When _you win a second term, you can push through all the radical reforms you want. But in the meantime, since you already have a lot on your plate. Bite off what you can chew. You've been accused of trying to repeal Section 3 of DOMA, canvass support for it. And in the short-term call out this anti-gay group. They are operating under the radar – bring them out, find ways to leak their donors, use shame as a tool."

Fitz stopped, grinning.

"What?"

"You are perfect."

Olivia smiled, "And just for that, I'll even propose a division of labour – you handle DOMA, and I'll handle the anti-gay group, find a way to publicise their activities."

"Livvie, I don't want the leaks traced back to Olivia Pope and Associates."

"Don't worry, they won't."

He bent low to kiss her, caressing her lips with his mouth. "You are perfect and very sexy."

She laughed, dragging on his arm to make him start walking again. "We are not going to do anything about that right now."

"Livvie…"

"No."

"Behind this tree trunk, no one can see."

Just then there were sounds of running feet, making them both turn swiftly. "Sir, you're wanted in the Situation Room," An agent said calmly, as an aide bent over trying to catch his breath.

"The Situation Room?"

"Yes, sir," The White House aide puffed. "North Korea has declared war on us, in response to a message sent from your Twitter account."

* * *

**A/N: Helloooo, sorry I'm late! Actually, I think lateness is required with this story! My struggle is, yes, that I don't have protagonist – but I still don't regret killing Mellie. What I do regret is not being sufficiently prepared to write this story.**

**I've been reading this book called '_Becoming a Writer'_ by Dorothea Brande and she has noted (under the heading - Recapturing Innocence of The Eye) : '…_Don't plan to use the material at once, for you may get only the brittle, factual little items of the journalist if you do not wait for the unconscious mind to work its miracles of assimilation and accretion on them." (BTW the meaning of 'accretion' from the Free Diction – yes, I had to look it up – 'growth or increase by the gradual accumulation of additional layers or matter'._)**

**When I started _A Presidential Divorce_ – I had hated Mellie for a long time, so my subconscious had apparently germinated plots that I wasn't even aware of until I started writing – either that or Mellie had pissed off even my writing muses/angels/spirits and they too wanted her gone!**

**Anyway, existentialist spiritualism aside, I started writing this story without fully letting my subconscious absorb, collect and grow layers (like fungus!) of plot, so now I need to take time while writing to write (if that makes sense). I say this because, after I've posted the last 3 chapters, I realised there were things I wanted to change (to the point, I wanted to pull this whole story out and start over- BUT I've talked myself off that ledge!).**

**So now, I'm going to ruminate (like a cow chewing cud, yes) with each chapter. So THANK YOU again to the lovely readers who aren't completely turned off by this story but I think I'm turning the corner from despair to some kind of direction. AAAAnd THANK YOUUUU for GIVING me direction: specially the hint about the _14__th__ Amendment_ and _Loving vs Virginia – _pure gold for this chapter!**

**Other bits of reality (my take at least) that I've tried to incorporate into this pickle of a story: Web 2.0 is what President Obama used in his social media initiatives - you can read more about it on About dot com - web trends _How Barack Obama Is Using Web 2.0 to Run for President by_Daniel Nations; The TMG party is loosely based on the Tea (Taxed Enough Already) party - info from Wikipedia. The idea of Global Unity for Families came from the America blog article written by Becca Morn- _ Homophobia Inc. and America's newest export: Hate (Part 1 of 3), _published 10/11/2013.  
**

**Oh yes, and I'm pretending that section 3 of DOMA hasn't been repealed. DOMA - the Defense of Marriage Act was passed into legislation by Bill Clinton in 1996 and section 3 was declared unconstitutional in 2013 (under President Obama). You can read more on that in Wikipedia and the Glaad website _Frequently Asked Questions: Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA). _**


	9. Web Two Oh

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Dammit, Jerry! I told you to open a Twitter account, I didn't tell you to _reply _to any messages!"

"Tweets, Dad, they're called tweets. And I thought the guy was a crank. I didn't think he was the real President of North Korea."

"Supreme Leader of North Korea," Olivia murmured.

"Yeah, him. I wasn't going to reply but he said the United States was the sworn enemy of the North Korean people. I didn't want that guy saying shit like that on your Twitter feed. I told him to get a life."

"You told him to Fuck Off!"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to say that in front of Mom," Jerry cast an embarrassed glance at Olivia, then added defiantly.

"Jerry, Mom saw it. I saw it. Our intelligence staff saw it. From what they tell me – practically the entire world saw it!"

"Look, all I wanted to say was that we're not as bad as the dude running the country. I told him to Google the President of North Korea like I did. They say he fed his uncle to a bunch of dogs and that he's starving his people. I told him you wouldn't do shit like that, and not just because you don't have an uncle and people here get food stamps."

Fitz glared in outrage, as Jerry carried on valiantly, "That's when he sent me the link to that creepy Youtube video. I don't know what it said because it was written in Korean or something, but the background music is 'We are the World'. I know because I've got it on my Classics playlist. And I'm pretty sure the copy they're playing on that video has been pirated. Shouldn't you be concerned about that? I mean it's taxable revenue you're missing out on, Dad."

"Jerry, you called the North Korean leader an _asshole_ because of a _copyright violation_?!"

"No, I called him an asshole because he is an asshole. You should have seen the video. It's got this guy dreaming about blowing up Manhattan. It's 9/11 all over again. Only worse – there were bombs dropping everywhere. Karen would have been scared, if she'd seen it. But I knew he'd ripped it off the video game _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3._ That's a second copyright violation; so yeah, Dad, he is an asshole."

"Jerry, this isn't a joke! North Korea has declared war on us! Nuclear war!"

"Yeah, well he said he was going to do that anyway. But I told him we weren't scared. I looked in Wikipedia – North Korea has less than 10 nuclear warheads. We have 7,700. We can beat his ass easy."

Fitz gritted his jaw, then uttered an expletive and slammed out of Jerry's bedroom.

"Where's he going?"

"He's going to contact the DPRK government."

"Hey, I know what that means now – the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. But I still think it's easier to say North Korea."

"But what your Dad has to do is not easy. Your Dad has to apologise for something you did and explain that several hundred million lives are at risk because of a misunderstanding. And he's going to have to do the same, with the governments of South Korea, China, as well as 50 other countries in the region. Then he's going to have to contact the European Union, the NATO alliance, and the G8. And he's going to have to call the United Nations Secretary General and—"

"Okay, I get it, Mom. I screwed up."

"Yes, Jerry, you did. Nuclear war isn't a video game. It a gigantic fireball that kills people, destroys buildings, and changes the climate. And when you insult world leaders with access to weapons of mass destruction, they retaliate."

"Yeah, but they can't just go to war with us — the North Korean congress needs to vote on it, right? I mean that's what Congress here has to do, before we declare war on anyone."

"Jerry, there are different systems of Government. In some countries, only one person makes the rules. And that person decides when to pull the trigger and start a war."

"You mean people don't have to work at it and get a consensus, like they did over here with the Iraq invasion? They don't have to find bogus evidence to tie Saddam Hussein to 9/11 and tell a bunch of lies about Weapons of Mass Destruction. Just one guy has to get mad, that's it?"

"Yes.

"Wow, Mom, that's dangerous."

"Yes, Jerry it is. And you need to remember that when you communicate with the world at large. Most of the time you won't know whom you're talking to, and what they'll do after reading something you've said."

"I should apologise, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, but you probably should wait a couple of hours until your dad has calmed down."

* * *

"Sir, the CIA has confirmed that North Korea has moved five medium-range Musudan missiles on to the country's East Coast. Considering the range of the missiles, which we estimate is between 2500 to 4000km, the likely targets appear to be our military bases in Guam."

Fitz steepled his fingers and looked around the Situation Room at the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the US ambassador to the United Nations, his intelligence chiefs and Sally Langston.

"Have we managed to get through to the North Korean leader?"

"No, sir. But the North Korean government has sent a communication to all foreign embassies in Pyongyang to evacuate their staff as, and I quote, 'their safety couldn't be guaranteed in the event of a conflict'."

"What about the North Korean diplomatic mission in New York?"

"They're not answering the phone, sir. Or the gate."

"What about the Chinese government? Are they having better luck?"

"The Chinese government have expressed their dissatisfaction with us and the North Koreans."

Another official added, "But we have the British and Swedish ambassadors attempting to make a diplomatic contact on our behalf."

Fitz sighed. "Right, so the message for tonight's press conference is that we are using every initiative to contain this situation."

"I wouldn't be too conciliatory, Fitzgerald," Sally said ponderously. "They did after all threaten a nuclear strike before your son sent his ill-advised messages."

"Yes, but it's those messages that have brought us to the brink of war."

"Well, let's hope that your son does not send any further inflammatory communications. The last thing we need is for the Syria and Iran to join North Korea in this horrific situation," Sally intoned, to which an intelligence officer quickly added, "We've deleted the messages, sir, and deactivated your account."

Fitz shook his head. "No, re-activate it. See if the North Koreans will at least try to contact us through that channel."

* * *

"Mom, the guy replied again!"

Jerry burst into Karen's room, startling Olivia and Karen who had been going through the wedding folder, borrowed from James.

"What? You wrote to him, after your Dad told you not to?!" Olivia frowned at him.

"Mom, it's okay I used my Twitter account, not Dad's. And I wanted to apologise. I told him I was sorry, that I shouldn't have used Dad's account to insult him. I didn't think he'd respond, but he has –what should I do?"

"What did he say?" Karen tilted her head in query.

"He wants to know how old I am?" Jerry said as he squeezed in between Olivia and Karen on the bed, the wedding folder hastily pushed aside.

"It's okay to tell him that you're only 14 years old." Olivia said, watching Jerry type.

"Now he wants to know if Dad beat me for what I did. Should I tell him Dad has?"

"No!" Olivia scolded. "Tell him you've been grounded."

"He wants to know what 'grounded' means."

"Say it's when you can't leave the house."

"He wants to know if I'm being kept in a CIA torture cell in the White House basement. Wow, do we have those here?"

"No, Jerry, we don't. Tell him you have to stay in your room. It's got a bed, a desk and books for you to read."

"He wants to know if I'll get food and water while I am imprisoned in my room."

"Say, yes. And that you can go to school."

"Really? Can't I be grounded from school too, Mom?"

"Jerry."

"All right, all right. I can go to school. And I can eat and drink." Jerry read while typing, then paused. "He wants to know if I'll get McDonalds?"

"Say the punishment includes a ban on McDonalds."

"He wants to know what's for dinner"

"We're having spaghetti and meatballs – my favourite," Karen smiled.

"It's not my favourite, I'll tell him we're having yukky spaghetti-"

"No, don't say that," Olivia stopped him. "You'll hurt chef's feelings if he ever saw this Tweet."

"Jeez, Mom, you know I hate gunky sauce on my spaghett!"

When Olivia just looked at him, Jerry demanded, "You want me to lie?... Okay, okay, we're having _yummy_ spaghetti and meatballs."

"Ask him what he's having for dinner?' Karen asked.

"No, don't ask him that. Ask him what the national dish of North Korea is."

"Why can't I ask him what he's having for dinner?" Jerry frowned.

"Remember those stories you read about his people starving – well, there are also stories that the top guy is living in luxury. We don't want to look like we're being judgemental or worse spying. So ask him about the national dish of North Korea."

"Okay," Jerry typed it in, then said after a pause. "He says it's Kimchi – pickled cabbage. He wants to know if I've had it. I'll tell him no, because it sounds gross."

"Jerry, remember, you're being diplomatic, so say you haven't but you'll try it out."

"Mom, I'm not having pickled cabbage."

"Jerry, you made this guy mad enough to declare nuclear warfare on us, eating pickled cabbage is the least you can do."

"Mom, you have to let that war thing go already," Jerry muttered as he typed. Then waited and read out after a pause. "He wants to know if I know Michael Jordan? I wish. I'll tell him 'no'." But before he could type that, Olivia interrupted.

"Wait, ask him why?"

"He says he's a fan. He says he has a basketball signed by Michael Jordan that was given as a gift by Madeline Albright."

"Who's that?" Karen looked over at Olivia.

"She was a Secretary of State when Bill Clinton was President."

"He says he's seen all Michael's games, and would really like to talk to him."

* * *

A couple of hours later, while Fitz was in the middle of his Live Media Conference, Olivia and Jerry were called into the Oval Office to face a grim-faced Sally Langston and Cyrus Beene.

"Young man, I don't believe you understand the gravity of your actions," Sally looked at Jerry with pitying sternness. "I cannot understand why your father didn't counsel you on the error of your ways and forbid you from indulging in this nonsense after the last catastrophic outcome,"

"Didn't your Dad tell you not to tweet," Cyrus bit out, glaring at Jerry.

"Dad told me not to use his Twitter account. I didn't. I used my own account."

"You wrote to the man again, after you all of us into so much trouble the first time?"

"I wanted to apologise."

"And he did so under my supervision," Olivia said, mildly.

Sally turned on her at once. "_Your_ supervision?! My dear Ms Pope, you cannot possibly consider yourself to be an expert on matters of international security."

"It wasn't Mom's fault. The guy wrote me back. It would have been rude if I didn't respond, so I asked Mom to help me."

"You didn't want to be rude, so you went and created a situation that's deadly. Yes, that makes so much sense to me," Cyrus muttered, wearily.

Sally shook her head. "I could not believe my eyes when my staff showed me the messages. Right there for the entire world to see. This is not how we correspond at the highest level of government, Ms Pope. We have protocols. We have advisors. We have secrecy."

"We don't put our message out on Twitter, so the world can read it," growled Cyrus. 'We aren't WikiLeaks. We _prosecute_ people who put Classified Information out in the public domain. Do you even know how much of an embarrassment you've caused this administration?" He glared at Jerry.

"Yeah, I gained like 2 million followers in five seconds. That was cool," Jerry grinned.

As Cyrus threw his hands up and sat down, Sally said with biting diction. "Listen, young man, this is not _cool_. What you did was dangerous. We could be facing World War III as the sole result of your actions."

"But we aren't. The Korean dude really likes Michael Jordan. He wouldn't destroy Michael's home."

'And that's the other issue. Getting an American sporting icon to speak to the leader of a country in our Axis of Evil? What were you thinking?" Cyrus looked at Olivia.

"We can't have civilians making unilateral decisions on matters of this magnitude," Sally inserted with patronising patience. "We have cut all diplomatic ties with North Korea since they began nuclear testing in violation of the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty. We use Sweden as the Protecting Power for consulate matters with North Korea, not Michael Jordan."

"Neither Jerry nor Michael ever claimed they were speaking on behalf of this Administration," Olivia snapped. "The North Korean leader responded to Jerry's tweet from his personal account. He is well within his rights to respond without asking for security clearance. When the North Korean leader mentioned Michael, I saw an opportunity to diffuse the situation and I seized it. And Michael was only too willing to help. Besides, they only talked about his game scores and plays. No one told the North Koreans where we hide our weapons. "

"Don't be facetious, Ms Pope," Sally snapped with equal ferocity. "It was reckless of you to encourage two civilians to talk to a world leader who has threatened military strikes against us; using a public, uncensored platform. You're playing in the big leagues now, Ms Pope. You are no longer dealing with tax-dodging mayors, drunken sports stars or naive interns. The decisions we make here have a global impact."

Then the conversation stopped as the door opened and Fitz walked in. He frowned as his gaze focused on Jerry and Olivia.

"What's going on here?"

"Ms Pope—"

"My fiancee."

"Has escalated the ongoing crisis, with added assistance from your son."

Sally then proceeded to tell Fitz about the 'crisis', adding, "We are taking the trouble to advise Ms Pope of the consequences of her actions. She needs to be aware that she cannot interfere with operations best left to an Administration of elected officials. These matters are not in any way similar to the usual garden-variety white-collar criminals she has as her clients."

Just then an intelligence expert thrust his head through the door and blurted, "Sir, we have word that the North Koreans are pulling their missiles away from the East Coast. And uh, the Supreme Leader has issued a formal invitation for Michael Jordan to visit the country, with your son."

"I see," Fitz said, "Thank you. Tell the guys in the Situation Room, that I'll be joining them in a second."

"Yes, sir."

As the intelligence officer departed, an uncomfortable silence permeated the room. Sally pursed her lips, straightening her jacket while Cyrus glanced at the carpet, the far wall and the ceiling.

Then Olivia got to her feet. "Now that a catastrophic nuclear situation has been averted, I believe this discussion is over. Come on, Jer, we're leaving." She held out her hand to Jerry, who grasped it immediately.

Then Fitz interrupted. "Wait. I believe an apology is due from Sally and Cyrus."

"With all due respect, Fitzgerald, she's a civilian who got lucky," Sally sniffed.

"She can't take it on herself to do this again," Cyrus muttered.

Olivia looked at him. "I can assure you, I won't."

"An apology," Fitz repeated, and waited.

* * *

Olivia was pacing in the Treaty Room with Jerry and Karen sitting on the couch watching her, when Fitz entered.

"Daddy," Karen ran over and hugged him.

"Hey, pumpkin," Fitz hoisted her up. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Is Jerry going to prison?"

"No, Jerry is not going to prison." Fitz smiled wryly.

Jerry angled a look from the corner of his eye. "How long am I grounded for this time?"

"You're not grounded."

"I'm not?!" Jerry's eyes widened.

"No, and I'd take myself off to bed if I were you, before I change my mind. Both of you," He gave Karen a kiss on the cheek and set her down on her feet, watching her run to Olivia and give her hug. Followed by Jerry.

"Thanks, Mom." He hugged her tight. "I promise I won't do anything like this again."

"We'll see," Olivia chuckled, hugging him back, which made Fitz smile.

Then he grinned, watching Jerry sidle past and reached out to haul him into a hug, muttering, "No more Tweeting tonight."

"Got it," Jerry mumbled. "And I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"Yeah, I know."

When he let go, Jerry was gone in a trice.

"Hi." Fitz faced Olivia.

"Hi." She smiled at him.

"Are we good?"

"We're good."

He sighed, coming towards her, reaching up to cup her face in his hands. "You were brilliant."

"So was Jerry… Are you going to send him to North Korea?"

"I'm considering it. Maybe for a couple of decades. What do you think?"

Olivia snuffled a laugh. "I think you should talk to him in the morning. Explain everything that went down after the Tweet, and explain the limits of what he can and cannot Tweet as the son of the President of the United States."

He chuckled softly. "Did I mention, you are brilliant?" He kissed her softly.

"Maybe."

"So why were you pacing?"

She drew back to look at him. "I'm just trying to come to terms with my limitations here; my _imposed_ limitations. I'm so used to taking charge of situations, that I have to remember I'm not in charge anymore."

"Livvie, you saved us from the brink of war."

"By pure luck."

"Said those who don't know you better." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Are you still marrying me?"

She nodded. "Yes, I told James I'm going to look for a dress tomorrow."

* * *

**A/N: So I've done a Scandalous take on a real life situation – well, it was inspired by 'true events' as reported in the media (heh, heh). **

**Yes, there really is a Youtube video****_- Destroy New York: North Korea's creepy new propaganda video_**** written by Peter Weber on The Week on Feb 6, 2013. What I loved about this is that the copyright lawyers are taking action about this video, ahead of everyone else NOT concerned about the war threat.**

**The basketball topic was inspired by this article - ****_Kim Jong Eun inherited an eccentric obsession with basketball from father Kim Jong Il_**** - written by Max Fisher in The Washington Post on Mar 1, 2013. And it's true the North Koreans leaders are HUGE fans of Michael Jordan, but they got Dennis Rodman instead - ****_Rodman's North Korea Trips Signal Basketball Push by Leader Kim_****- by Mason Levinson published in Bloomberg Business Week on Jan 13, 2014**

**And the whole North Korean – US nuclear war situation was blown all out of proportion in this story (than in real life) and was inspired by the following: ****_The Cuban Missile Crisis, October 1962_**** from the US Department of State, Office of the Historian: Milestones 1961–1968 (which says that Russia and US almost went to war over 'miscommunication'; resulting in a 'hotline' being set up between The Kremlin and The White House); ****_North Korea: Foreign embassy staff may not be safe if there's war_**** written by Ian Johnston and Becky Bratu, NBC News, updated 5 April 2013; and info on missile ranges were swiped from this article ****_Devil in the Dark – North Korean Missiles Threatening Nuclear Strike on American Territories and Allied Holdings in the Pacific_**** - by Joe Calandra Jr, published on Liberty News on April 11, 2013**


	10. Let the Games Begin

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMMmmmm **

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

_"The White House isn't talking about the Nuclear War that Never Happened, thanks to a sporting legend and the President's son. The official line is that a 'regrettable misunderstanding' was 'contained' after sustained diplomatic efforts by the US State Department, Chinese Authorities, British and Swedish consular staff. We have heard from White House sources, who did not want to be named, that the unorthodox approach to 'a delicate diplomatic situation' was not welcomed by senior officials in the Grant Administration. They were even less impressed that the initiative came from the President's fiancée, Ms Olivia Pope. Should the DC Fixer be let loose on International Relations? White House officials believe not..." _

"_The Tweet-heads are still talking about it: the tweets that saved us from nuclear annihilation. Who knew that Mr Asian Bad Guy, who by the way hates our guts, loves basketball and Michael Jordan? Yeah, and we have the President's son, Fitzgerald Grant the Fourth, to thank for that little insight. I've gotta say and it's not often that you're going to hear me say this, but praise God and Hallelujah for the trifecta of Basketball, Michael Jordan and Fitzgerald Grant the Fourth..." _

_"So everyone's talking about how we nearly got nuked. Nobody's talking about who prevented it. No, I'm not talking about the President's son, Fitzgerald Grant the Fourth or NBA Megastar Michael Jordan. I'm talking about Ms Olivia Pope, the DC fixer who fixed an international crisis. Correction: there are folks talking about it in Capitol Hill, the way you would talk about an escaped felon or how your uncle took his teeth out in front of your new boyfriend at Christmas dinner. Yeah, a lot of DC's top movers and shakers are unhappy they never got to move or shake their thang. Now I don't speak for each and everyone of you out there, or even this network, but as someone who is alive this morning to discuss the issue, I've gotta say 'thank you, Ms Pope!'..."_

Hollis muted the TV on his private jet and grinned at Sally. "Well, now, it looks like Ms Olivia Pope has cooked your goose again, Sally. Didn't I tell you that gal is hard to beat."

"Oh, I don't mind losing a few battles when my focus is on winning the war."

"Now that wouldn't be the Nuclear war, now would it?"

"Ms Pope's connections aren't going to save her from every situation, Hollis."

"Oooh," Hollis chortled, "You've got me intrigued. What's next on the menu of your own personal cornucopia of hell?"

Sally raised a brow. "Really, Hollis, does your mind never stray far from your stomach?"

He gave a beatific smile. "Should I be worried about that judge-thee-as-ye-shall-not-me tone of yours; will you put a knife to my throat because I'm a glutton?"

"Do not mangle the Lord's word. And it is you who must put a knife to your throat if you are given to gluttony, not I."

"Then I've got nothing to worry about, for the only gotdamn thing I'll be putting my knife to is a Texas-sized steak, medium rare."

* * *

"Now onto the matter of Olivia's staff – she's going to need some," Cyrus said looking at Fitz helpfully. "How many people do you think she'll need to keep herself busy as the First Lady?"

Fitz frowned in consideration. "I don't know. We haven't discussed it."

"You need to discuss it, sir. The sooner the better. These things shouldn't be left to the last minute." He paused to take out a sheet of paper from the folder in his hands. "Let's see, I have taken the liberty of drawing up a list of people that she will need. This is merely a guide and a rough approximation, of course but we have a chief of staff, at least two deputy chiefs of staff, a communications direction, a deputy communications director, a press secretary, a director of policy and projects, a deputy director of policy and projects, a director of scheduling and advance, a deputy director for scheduling and events, a special assistant for scheduling and travel, legal counsel, and three social secretaries. Have I left anyone out..." Cyrus looked at his list. "Hmm, no I think that's it – 15 key staff, not counting ancillary staff and Olivia's full-time style team of a stylist, a personal shopper, a hair stylist, a make-up artist and a personal trainer."

Fitz who'd been looking at Cyrus with his chin propped in his hand, sat back in his chair. "Give me the list, I'll get Livvie to have a look."

"She would need to get this back to me pronto as I would need to start the selection process. I want to have everything ready for her to hit the ground running. I've also got staff into to clear out the last of Mellie's things from the East Wing. They will be put in storage along with the other files and folders we got from Blair House."

"I'd like Olivia to have an office in the West Wing."

Cyrus gaped. "In the West Wing?"

"Don't look so surprised. Hilary Clinton and Edith Roosevelt had their office in the West Wing."

"That may be, sir, but... there's no room for Olivia and all her staff in the West Wing."

"Her staff can use the East Wing. And Olivia can have Sally's office. Sally already has one office suite in the Eisenhower Building, which is only five minutes away. She doesn't need a second at the White House."

"Sally's office, you say?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?"

"No, no problem at all."

* * *

"So you're here to check up on us? See if we haven't torched the place?" Harrison asked, trailing behind Olivia as she walked along the corridor, carrying Teddy.

There were two agents waiting by the elevator, while two others were standing in the conference room, after having checked the offices, the kitchen and the restrooms.

"No! I was going to see James Novak, and thought I'd stop by on my way."

"Liv, when we heard James Novak was getting involved in your wedding plans, we checked the guy out, right down to where he lives and how many socks he has in his sock drawer."

"You checked him out?" Olivia paused, looking over her shoulder at Harrison.

"Yeah," He reached her side, reaching up to tickle Teddy's cheek. "We've got your back. You know that."

Olivia gave a faint smile, which widened when she came to her office. "It looks the same. I wondered if this space was being used for storage."

"Liv, you're still the boss. We plan on keeping this room exactly the way it is, to reassure our clients that we haven't gone rogue on you. Most people think we've got top level security clearance, now that you're in with the Prez. And so far that assumption has been working for us."

Olivia walked behind her desk, deftly avoiding the orchid that Teddy tried to grab. "I miss this," she admitted finally, facing Harrison. "I miss being in charge, being at the centre of an ongoing crisis. Now I'm on the outside looking in, and they don't want me looking in, at the White House."

"Liv, even from being on the outside, you're kicking their ass. You can do this. I know you can, you're good at taking charge; being the boss. You did that even when we were kids, but it was okay because you watched out for me too. Like you were my big sister. And you know you could have been, if my dad had married your mom, liked they planned."

"But then Rowan came along, with his fancy talk, naked ambition and polished shoes. I think my Mom would have been so much happier with your Dad," Olivia said softly, resting her cheek on Teddy's curly head.

"But you probably wouldn't have been_ the_ Olivia Pope, and my ass would still be in jail."

Olivia chuckled. "So you guys are managing okay?"

Harrison gave her a considering look, then said slowly, "I wouldn't say okay, but we're managing. We miss you, yeah. But we know you've got a lot on your plate, becoming the New Missus at the White House and all; handling dictators and nuclear wars."

Olivia smiled again. "Where's Huck?"

"He's checking your apartment." There was a pause, as neither made a move, then Harrison asked, "You want coffee? I can make coffee, and something else for the kid, unless you're happy to let him keep chewing on your hair?"

She laughed, distracting Teddy with the orchid so she could reclaim her hair. "The little man has milk, water and fruit juice in the bag, but yeah, I'd love a coffee and you can update me on what's been happening around here..."

* * *

Olivia didn't pick up the phone. Fitz knitted his brow in concern, and had disconnected the call, intending to call the Secret Service, when she called back.

"Bad time?" He asked.

"No, no," Olivia said breathlessly. "I was just in the middle of changing Teddy's diaper when you called."

"Oh. Nasty."

"You can say that again. Phew," Olivia groaned. "Even the agents are standing back on this one."

Fitz chuckled. "I told you to take one of the nurses with you."

"I want to do this. It's good training."

There was a pause, then he said huskily. "Are you saying what I think you're saying."

"Fitz, I'm not pregnant," she mumbled into the phone, adding quickly, "But we could be... some day...in the very _near _future."

"So when do we start trying? Tonight?"

"I was thinking Valentine's Day, so it doesn't feel like a shotgun wedding."

He grinned. "Hmm..."

She started to laugh. "Stop, you're making me blush! And I have to go. Or we'll be late, and James won't be happy."

"But you left hours ago."

"I, um, took a detour, you know just to check on my guys see how they're doing. Nothing serious."

There was a long tense silence. Then he said abruptly, "I'm kicking Sally out of her office."

"_What_? Why?"

"So you can move in. I don't want you half a world away in the East Wing."

"Fitz, I can walk from the East Wing. It's not a big deal. You shouldn't kick her out."

"She's always had her sights on moving into the Oval office. Now she's getting impatient. I don't like it."

"I know, but you can't cut all your strategic alliances. Fitz, you need her."

"You don't think I have the numbers to make it on my own? You think another backroom deal will have to be done to get me back in office?"

"Fitz, I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is that in the past you would have been less...I don't know... alpha male about all this."

"You mean you prefer me as the guy who felt crushed under Big Jerry's thumb. The one who let you set the agenda on our relationship, the guy I was before I got shot?

"No! I'm not saying that! I love you! The old you, the new you, all of you!" She took an audible breath. "But you can't banish all the bad guys, not yet. It's too early in the game."

He smiled at that. "Are we playing chess?"

"Only if the chess pieces come with knives already stuck in their backs."

He smiled. "I love you."

"Ditto."

He laughed. "I'm tempted to say something else, now that I know you've got an audience."

She snuffled a laugh. "Do you have to work late again tonight?"

"Why?"

"I want to go on a date. Just the two of us."

He sat up. "Yeah? Let me organise it."

"No,_ I'm_ organising it."

"Okay, Boss."

"Oh, I like hearing you say that," she teased.

* * *

Minutes after he'd ended his call with Olivia, the phone on his desk rang.

"Fitzgerald! I will not be evicted from my office in The White House! I cannot believe you have taken it on yourself to be so presumptuous! That is my office, Fitzgerald! Mine! I will not vacate my presence so you can indulge in your shenanigans with your little—!" Sally's paused abruptly, and Fitz immediately pictured the words crowding against pursed lip, ready to burst from her cheeks.

"My little what...?" He prompted.

"Your fiancée! I am the Vice President, I was elected Vice President! Olivia Pope was not!"

"You still have that title, Sally. No one is taking that away from you."

"I am not talking about _my title_! I am talking about my office! The outrage of having my staff questioned by none other than Cyrus Beene as to why it is necessary for me to have two offices! I will not have my necessities questioned by that man!

"Because he is a homosexual?"

"Do not be facetious, Fitzgerald! Are you saying that presumptuous question was not made at your directive?"

"Now Sally, much as you'd like to see Cyrus as Satan's right hand man, do I need to remind you that Cyrus is the Chief of Staff? And since he has raised the question, I am curious as to why you do need two offices. Most of your team works in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, which is just across the road. Wouldn't it make sense for you to be closer to them?"

"_Sense_?! This has nothing to do with _sense_ and everything to do with pettiness! But I will not be brought to heel by it!"

"Sally, I am not running a puppy school, and I wouldn't demean your status in the Grant Administration by bringing you to heel. Now if we're done discussing your hypothetical move out of the White House—"

"_Hypothetical_?" Sally cut in, icily.

"Yes, Sally, because Olivia will have her office in the East Wing. You really should stop vicious rumours from ruffling your feathers."

* * *

Olivia did a last minute check of her apartment. The lights were low, the candles were lit, the food was warming in the kitchen and Frank Sinatra was playing on the music system. Pleased, she opened the door and drank in the sight of Fitz in a dark coat, open to reveal a charcoal sweater and black jeans.

His gaze swept over her cream cashmere sweater, satin lounge pants and bare feet.

"I hoped you'd be naked," he said huskily.

She shook her head with a smile, and reached for his hand to tug him inside. Then she glanced at the agents waiting, "Are those chairs, Okay?" she waved towards the chairs she'd placed in the foyer.

"Yes, ma'am, but we'll be standing."

"Fine," she smiled, "Your regular take-out place will be delivering your meals in about ten minutes. You'll know the delivery guy."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"What did you order for us?" Fitz asked, sliding his arms around her waist, once the door closed behind them.

"I didn't order for us."

"You cooked?" He drew back frowning.

"No!" She swiped his chest. "I had food specially delivered from the White House."

"The White House?" He raised a brow

"Yep. The Secret Service wouldn't approve a delivery of any other kind at such short notice. They want to make sure that only agent-approved junk goes into your fancy Presidential stomach."

He laughed, sliding a hand under her sweater, only to pause when he touched bare skin. Then his eyes grew smoky as he caressed the smooth expanse of her back.

"Let's forget about food," he whispered, drawing her impossibly close, so she couldn't mistake his meaning.

She feathered kisses along his roughening jaw, and whispered, "We can't forget about food, I've been given strict instructions on when and how to serve it."

He smoothed his palm low over her hip, pressing her to him. She moaned biting his neck gently, "Fitz... I've got Chanterelle Mushroom Soup with goat's cheese fritters for entree."

He groaned. "They sent you my favourites, didn't they?"

"Yes." She smiled.

He helped her plate up in the kitchen. They took their time, making a mess and licking each other's fingers, which frequently led to kissing and caressing and lots of soft laughter.

Some dishes, made it out of the kitchen, others didn't. They fed each other, sometimes with her sitting on his lap at the dining table, other times with her on the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands caressing her bare thighs.

The food was orgasmic, and so was she lying spread out on the table, letting him feast on her.

They danced whenever the mood took them, with Fitz singing softly in her ear, as she smoothed her hands over him, revelling in the freedom of touch and his warm skin, rough chest and solid muscles.

"You're so handsome," she whispered. "It's a good thing you have so many other faults, to balance it out."

"Ah, a dagger straight to the heart."

She snuffled a laugh, laying her head on his chest. "You know I could never leave you."

He stilled against her, for a moment it felt as if he'd stopped breathing but his heartbeat was steady beneath her cheek. She drew back to look at him, and found his gaze solemn and sad. "You did leave me, Livvie. More than once."

"I left because I loved you. And you were always there with me, with my every step, my every breath; making it impossible for me to move on and forget you, forget us."

"It's worse knowing that you can leave, and that it would be for the best of intentions."

"Fitz." She lifted her hands to cup his face. "You're everything I never dreamed. But now that I have experienced the reality, you've ruined me. I'm ruined for anyone else but you," She smiled.

He lowered his head until their foreheads touched. "Just as I've been ruined by an Olivia-shaped takeover of my heart."

"Wow, sounds bad," she teased, sliding her arms around his waist. "We need to find a cure for that."

"I don't want a cure," he muttered, lowering his mouth to her lips, kissing her softly at first, tenderly, then with abandon that had them collapsing onto the nearest couch.

They danced again, completely naked finishing off the last of the wine, then had their dessert of chocolate soufflés in the bath.

"I like the idea of this place being our little love nest," he murmured, when they were snuggled up in bed.

"I'm thinking of renting it out."

"What can I do to change your mind?" He whispered, nuzzling her ear.

"I'm renting, not selling."

"Cold feet, but not running away," he kissed her shoulder.

"I'm not running away," she said softly, looking at him steadily.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Tonight's been the best date night I've had. We should do this again. On a regular basis."

"Once a month when you're not dealing with dictators?"

He laughed softly. "We should eat out at some of the local establishments, as a couple and as a family. But we need to give them two to three weeks notice, so the Secret Service can check out the staff, secure the restaurant and watch the cooks while the meals are being prepared."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Okay, I get it, I'll keep this place. Just for us."

He cupped her face, smiling as he kissed her.

* * *

"Dammit! He told me he wanted her out! Now she thinks it was all my idea!" Cyrus raged as he paced in front of the gas fire.

"Did you try and talk him out of it?" James asked patiently, checking the menu options that the White House executive chef had emailed, for the wedding reception.

"No, I did not because I want that woman out! She's a smarmy, conniving, judgemental harpy! I want the scourge of her gone forever from the White House, but nooooo, she's more firmly entrenched than ever, and it's all her fault!"

"Whose fault?" James looked up from his laptop, confused.

"Olivia's! If she keeps playing nice we'll never be rid of that dragon in our dungeon!"

* * *

"The humiliation of it all! Involving me in their petty, juvenile games! I told him I would not be involved in such nonsense! To think he's resorting to these flippant acts of self-indulgence at a time when our country's future is being threatened on so many fronts!" Sally rubbed night cream on her face with vigorous hands, then turned from her reflection in the mirror to glare at her husband.

"Daniel Douglas, are you even listening to me?"

Daniel Douglas Langston looked up from his E-reader. "Of course, my dear, 'the country's future is being threatened on many fronts'," he repeated glibly, with a faint smile.

Sally turned back to the mirror, swiping up tissues from the box on her dresser, to clean the excess cream from her hands. "I will not be mocked in my own house. And I will not be mocked in the White House either by that vengeful cockroach, Cyrus, who crawls on either side of the fence."

Sally walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers. "Fitz is a fool for keeping him on staff. It is well past time that man was seen off with a golden handshake to write his memoirs, and I would have had a better chance of convincing Fitz of that had she not come along!" Sally snapped the covers up to her chin.

"Who came along?" Daniel looked up from his E-reader.

"Olivia Pope! She insists on befriending that old goat who must be cast into the everlasting fires of hell!" Sally snapped, and switched off the lamp on the night table between their twin beds.

* * *

**A/N: So I was going to send them off on a date to Per Se on Marine One (after reading an interview with Tony Goldwyn on the New Potato published Oct 3, 2013, see excerpt: **

**_If there were certain New York or Los Angeles restaurants President Fitzgerald Grant would be sure to be found in, what would they be? _**

**_In LA, Fitz would close down The Tower Bar [at the Sunset Tower Hotel] to have an intimate dinner with Olivia. In New York? He'd book a private room at Per Se.)_**** Then I read this unfortunate article (unfortunate because it forced me to realise reality occasionally has to be distant acquaintance of mine) : ****_The President Ate Here: What Happens When Barack Obama Dines Out?_**** Posted by Jessica Sidman on Oct. 24, 2012 on the Washington City Paper website which details that the President can't just 'drop in' to an eatery – the Secret Service needs to check the place out ( including staff checks via social security numbers, blocking off streets, checking out the premises with sniffer dogs and watching chefs prepare the meals). So, um, figured it was a lot easier to send them off to Olivia's apartment where Fitz has already been dropping by like the guy who lives across the road.**

**And yes, #DanielisNotDead in this story. Hmm…. And the bit about the goat and fires of hell was filched from an article called _Osas congregation allows the unsaved sinners to be damned_ on the Osas challenge website. Missed a specific date on the post.  
**

**Also I felt bad about the Secret Service standing outside Olivia's apartment all night, so they get chairs and a meal - the meal was after reading about _The Bodyguards: All About the Female Secret Service Agentst_ (yes that extra 't' on the end of Agents was an _Elle_ typo!) written by Laura Blumenfeld in Elle on Feb 10, 2013, where they barely had time to eat on assignment in Egypt. Not sure how it works in real Secret Service Land... but this is _Scandal_ (ha, ha).**

**Oh yes and I have no idea what Fitz would like to eat, but I came across these reviews for a book titled ****_Dining at the White House: From the President's Table to Yours_**** by John Moeller (an ex-White House chef) – and some of the reviewers on Amazon had described the dishes – specifically the mushroom soup. The chocolate soufflé idea came from the New Potato article … ;)))))**


	11. Taboo

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMmin' #Jammin' # Jammin' (as Bob Marley would say). **

**No Mellie, No Joke! That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Olivia kissed her way up his chest, along his throat, biting his chin playfully before laughing against his mouth, as he tightened his arms around her and groaned, eyes still closed.

"Sleep," he commanded gently.

"Can't. Kids will be awake soon. We need to go."

He groaned again, but didn't open his eyes, although his mouth puckered for her kiss.

She hovered just out of reach, forcing him to crack open an eye but he closed it again after seeing her cheeky grin.

"Fitz," she protested, then shrieked when, without warning, he erupted into action, rolling her onto her back, tickling her as she tried to wriggle away.

"Fitz! Stop!"

"No."

"Fitz!"

"No." He raised his head to look at her, laughter fading as lust took its place.

"Good morning," he said huskily, smoothing the hair from her face. Then he slowly lowered his mouth to her lips.

She sighed wrapping her arms around his neck, as he sank into the kiss, coaxing her lips apart, teasing her with his tongue.

A sudden strident knocking, jerked them apart as an agent identified himself through the closed door, adding, "Ma'am, sir, we need you out here. We have a situation."

As Fitz and Olivia stared at each other, they heard an outraged female voice yell, "Get your slimy hands off me!"

Olivia looked at Fitz. "That's Abby. Let me handle this..."

His sigh of frustration feathered her cheek, as he stroked a thumb over her lips. "Make it quick."

She laughed, pushing his hand away and getting out of bed. "Fitz, we can't... you'll have to care of it yourself, or take a cold shower."

"Heartless," Fitz groaned, burying his face in a pillow as she quickly wrapped herself in a robe.

"Well...if you take a really long shower, I might join you." She smiled, stroking a hand over his curls, then chuckled when he caught her hand, placing a lingering kiss on her palm before letting her go.

* * *

When Olivia made her way to the living room she found Secret Service Agents surrounding Abby and Quinn carrying armfuls of clear wrapped white gowns.

The three women stared at each other in silence, then Olivia said, "Ladies, how are we this morning?"

"Oh we're good…really good… Are you okay?" Quinn gave a tentative smile.

But before Olivia could answer, Abby demanded, "Why are you naked under that robe?"

An agent cleared his throat, "Uh, ma'am, would you like to handle this in private?"

"Thank you." Olivia nodded, as the agents saw themselves out, closing the door behind them.

"Abby..."

"Olivia! Are you cheating on the President? Why? I mean I know the man is a Republican but this is a mistake! You 'll regret this in the morning!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "This is the morning, Abigail, and the only person I see regretting anything is you. So I really think you should stop talking."

"No, Liv needs to hear this, from a friend. Olivia, I get that you have cold feet. I had cold feet too, remember – that night I got drunk and got picked up by that college jock. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't found me, paid my bar tab and told the kid you wouldn't report him for putting a roofie in my drink—"

"He put a roofie in your drink?" Quinn gaped.

"No, but he got out of there fast, so must have had something else on him that he didn't want to get caught with." Olivia shrugged.

"After he left, you took me to your apartment, cleaned me up and told me not to marry Charles. I know I should have listened to you, I would have saved myself a lot of hurt if I had, but you know sometimes you just don't see what's in front of your face."

"So what's in front of my face, Abby?" Olivia raised a brow.

"You love him, the President. You know you do. It's not a political marriage, like mine and Charles. And he doesn't fit the obvious Republican type of a vile, unconscionable, money-grubbing, crony-riddled creep."

"Abby, stop, please," Quinn groaned.

"Listen, Liv, I get that you hate turning into a Stepford wife. All that fake smiling, hand shaking, polite chit chat, never telling anyone what you really think – it'll drive you crazy, but you can handle it because you're strong, Liv. You're tough on the inside. And on the outside. I mean, I could never have taken that tyre iron to Charles the way you did –aargh!" Abby's pep talk ended on an unexpected shriek as she snapped her eyes shut, while Quinn looked as if she was caught between laughter and awe.

"Good morning, all." Fitz rumbled behind Olivia a second before his arms snaked around her waist.

Shifting a hasty hand behind her back, Olivia was relieved to feel a towel covering his firm buttocks. Then blushed when he chuckled softly into her ear, teasing her lobe.

"How much longer?" he whispered loudly.

"Not much longer," she promised huskily, feeling her cheeks heat.

"Okay." He pressed a lingering kiss to her neck and sauntered off, while Olivia and Quinn openly watched his every move. Then Olivia turned to catch Abby doing the same with one sneaky eye.

Immediately, she snapped both eyes open and said defiantly, "He wasn't shy about giving us a show."

"How does he look so good for his age?" Quinn murmured. "And those abs…phew!"

"Hey!" Olivia returned.

"Sorry," Quinn grinned unabashed. "And uh, Abigail…you were saying."

Abby gave a martyred look, "I didn't know you were with him."

"yes, you did! You said the guys outside couldn't be gangsters because their suits were bought on the government pay-scale."

"That didn't mean I knew_ he_ was here! Harrison said that Olivia had started travelling with a posse. I thought they belonged to her!" Abby glared at Quinn, then turned her glare on Olivia, "What are you doing here with him anyway?"

"More to the point what are you doing in my apartment, carrying all those wedding dresses?" Olivia countered.

* * *

"So they are helping James?"

"Yeah," Olivia smiled as he dried her off after their shared shower. "And I think Abby approves of you."

"For a vile, unconscionable, money-grubbing, crony-riddled creep?"

"Yes," she giggled, kissing his chin, and taking the towel out of his hands to wipe him down.

He watched her face, smiling as her hands teased him, then groaned in disappointment when she stopped before things could get really interesting.

"Hey." He tried to hold onto her, then quickly sidestepped a flick from the towel in her hands.

"Playtime is over for you," she said firmly.

"You know now that we're talking about the wedding, there's something else we need to talk about." He said, watching her hips as she walked to the bathroom counter and took out the moisturising lotion from her overnight kit.

"What's that?" She glanced, over her shoulder.

"Have you told your father we're getting married on Valentine's Day?"

She instantly turned away, her shoulders stiffening. "No."

"Livvie, he has to walk you down the aisle."

"We're not marrying in a Church. There's no aisle."

"Livvie, you need family there."

She watched him in the mirror, smoothing her hands over her belly in circles before sliding them up to her breasts.

In a flash he was behind her, his hands taking the place of hers as she leaned against him.

"You're seducing me," he chuckled huskily.

"Yes…" she murmured, one arm reaching up to snake behind his neck.

"Your dad needs to be there, Livvie."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does."

She suddenly dropped her arm and pushed away from him. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Liv." He caught her hand. "He's your only living relative. Not having him there will just cause unnecessary speculation."

"Would you have asked Big Gerry to the wedding, if he was still here?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

"I would have told him, Livvie, because he would have come anyway."

"Rowan won't be able to do that, if you tell Morris he can't be let past the gate."

"Livvie..."

She stood on tiptoe, to give him a hard, brief kiss. "No."

* * *

"Sally, now why would you give a man like Orson Wurdle of Global Unity for Families a hundred thousand dollars?" Daniel Douglas Langston, looked across the breakfast table at his wife.

Sally paused in the middle of spooning honey onto her oatmeal, frowning. "Do not be ridiculous, Daniel. Why would I donate one red cent to that cause, knowing you would be against it?"

"I must doubt the conviction in your tone when I recall that this would not be the first time you have lied to me," Daniel said grimly.

"I would encourage you to let sleeping dogs lie, Daniel. My soul wearies of these tired old arguments. I am, however, surprised to see that you have concerned yourself with our finances when it was understood that division of labour would fall on me. May I ask what has brought on your sudden interest?"

"My 'sudden' interest as you call it has been awakened by this news story that you are one of the biggest donors to that wretched organisation."

"What?!" Sally left her chair to snatch the IPad off the table. "What is this? I can barely read this! Why can't you read a newspaper like a normal human being?"

"I am a normal human being who has embraced modern technology, Sally. And what you are reading has not yet been picked up by the major news outlets, though I have no doubt it will. What you are looking at there is a blog."

"_A blog_? Why do you insist on reading such nonsense written up as fact?" she said impatiently. "It is unfortunate for this particular writer that his lies have been brought to my attention. I will have shut this little gossip site down in my suit of defamation!"

"I doubt that you will succeed, Sally. They have included a copy of the emails that our attorneys wrote directly to the accountants confirming the anonymous donations over the last two years."

"If the donations were made anonymously, I fail to see the link to my good name."

"The emails were copied to you. I can show you the trail of documented evidence, if you care to see it."

"I do not care to see it!" Sally snapped. "It's a lie! It's all lies!"

At Daniel's wry look, Sally gritted her teeth, holding back the expletives that could not be uttered. She took a deep breath and went back to her seat. "This is just a very obvious attempt by that…that… presumptuous deviant to discredit me and my office. I can think of no other reason for this travesty, sullying my good name."

"And mine," Daniel Douglas Langston muttered.

* * *

"So what can you tell me about this story going around that Sally has been donating big time to that anti-gay lobby group?" James asked, spooning mashed banana into Ella's mouth.

The Wall Street Journal hit the table in flurry of pages as Cyrus stared owlishly. "_What_?"

"Oh, so you don't know about it? It's not in your bible?" James gestured to the newspaper on the breakfast table.

"James," Cyrus said with barely contained patience, "What were you saying about Sally?"

"There's a LGBT blogger who's printed a list of Republican politicians have been secretly donating to Global Unity for Families. Sally Langston is on that list, among the top five contributors."

"I knew it!" Cyrus thumped the table, startling Ella. "I knew she was giving those bigots more than a sympathetic ear up on Capitol Hill!"

"Could you not abuse the furniture. Ella doesn't like it," James scolded, keeping his tone light as he tickled Ella's chin, distracting her. "And the inside voice that you want to hear from Daddy Cyrus for today is soft and gentle, isn't that right, Ella my sweet?"

Cyrus gave a wide smile for Ella's benefit, and hissed through gritted teeth, "Wait, you said these were secret donations. Have they got proof?"

"They've got links to emails, electronic receipts. Even the relationship to third party donors, who've including a family pet who shares the same surname as the two-legged members of its household. I would say somebody failed Common Sense 101."

Cyrus remained focused on his arch nemesis. "And Sally's name is there for all to see?"

"Well, there are emails sent by a legal firm to an accountant, confirming the anonymous donations, and they've noted at the bottom, copy to Mrs Sally Langston with a client reference number. The client reference is a match on another letter by the same firm, addressed to Mrs Sally Langston at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue."

Cyrus gave a genuine smile. "I do like it when all the dots line up to make an easy connection."

"Well, you may not like the next line of dots I have to share. News of her donation is being well received in certain sections of this great nation of ours. You know the herds we like to call hate groups."

The smile on Cyrus' face vanished. "Don't tell me they've already jumped on this, those bread-and-butter Republican voters who believe that Gays and Lesbians are to blame for Hurricane Sandy and all other natural disasters afflicting this earth?"

"Not only have they jumped on it, there are blog posts and tweets going around praising Sally for putting her money where her mouth is. Those nutjobs in the TMG Party have started promoting her as their poster child; they are asking her to step up and challenge Fitzgerald Grant at the next election."

* * *

**A/N: So the idea for this chapter came from ****_How To Stay Anonymous When You Give To Charity_**** by Deborah L. Jacobs published in Forbes on 9/19/2012 and ****_Stupid Mistakes that Lawyers Make with Technology_**** By Sharon Nelson and John Simek , published Mar.17.11 on the Attorney at Work website. Yes, little things can keep me entertained for days …;))). **

**Of course, I had to use my lazy-writer opt-out, by making the accountants and lawyers silly enough to include the client reference number in the email and a conveniently found letter… I couldn't think of another way to link Sally to Global Unity (I blame it on Dog panting in my face to let me know it's hot – 'tho the breeze was nice, even if it did come with remnants of canine lunch).**

**Now since I started with Bob Marley, I will leave you (until next time!) with my favourite line in his ****_Redemption Song_****: 'Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds'. And while we mourn Macklemore's win at the Grammys, just a note to say that a Bob Marley song or album never actually won a Grammy. (After his death, Bob Marley did receive a posthumous Lifetime Achievement Grammy in 2001). **

**Regardless, Bob Marley was also the guy who gave the song-writing credit for '****_No Woman, No Cry'_**** to his friend Vincent Ford, who ran a soup kitchen in Kingston, Jamaica. Bob Marley wrote the song but gave away the credit so the royalties would fund the soup kitchen indefinitely. You can read about this in About Dot Com - ****_Bob Marley Trivia_**** and Wikipedia '****_No Woman No Cry' _****#How-To-Win-At-Life-Without-A-Gold-SippyCup.  
**


	12. Cocoon

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** #HappyBirthdayKerryWashington! #Inspirational: "Be The Lead in Your Own Life" #Aspirational: "I'm interested in living in a post-racist world." #Amazing**

**No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Oh, and the breaking news is that conservative knuckleheads want Sally Langston to be the next President," Cyrus said, watching Fitz get his notes in order, before his meeting with the Press Secretary.

"Who announced her candidacy – Fox News?"

"Among others. You know the attack media shapes public opinion. The millions listening to the Rush Limbaughs and Glenn Becks are hearing that you're a lefty-leaning, dictator-worshiping, Constitution-wrecking abomination! Sally Langston on the other hand is the new Messiah who will lead them to their Right Wing utopia."

Fitz sat back, still with a look of amusement on his face. "Meanwhile, in other news, the Iran is willing to stop its nuclear program for six months in exchange for an easing of economic sanctions. The real breaking news is that Secretary of State will be flying out to Iran to discuss this with the foreign ministers of the P5 plus 1 group of countries."

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was that – P5 plus one, you say? Tell that on the news, and they'll think it's a new tax code or a new superbug."

Fitz grinned. "I'll help my fellow Americans understand the importance of this historic meeting by the five Permanent members of the United Nations Security Council plus Germany. And I'll keep it simple for the Limbaugh listeners at the press conference tonight."

Cyrus gave a pitying look. "Sir, they won't be watching. They'll be tuned into _the Real Housewives of Atlanta _or _The Bachelor _or whatever mind-numbing drivel is on. This is the generation of sound bites and impatience. No one cares that a country which once called us 'The Great Satan', is now negotiating with us to freeze its nuclear program."

"We can't run this country on sound bites, Cyrus."

"I would agree with you if this wasn't a re-election year. You have to get those Limbaugh listeners to believe that you are as much of a good Christian Conservative as Sally Langston who patrols the halls of Congress passing laws that restrict the freedoms of immigrants, gays and people who are pro-choice."

"Cyrus, it's too late for Sally to announce her candidacy. The only way she can run at the next election is if I die, quit or get impeached by Congress."

* * *

"So we're all decided on the red velvet cake?"

Olivia looked around her dining table at James and her associates.

Karen seated on her lap, nodded; Peter, joining them via a live link on her laptop, said 'yes'; while Jerry standing by the table, video-taping the proceedings for his 'wedding diary', gave a thumbs up.

"Red Velvet Cake with Ermine icing. Perfect," said Abby, smiling.

"Wait, ermine as in rats?" Jerry asked, looking up from the camera screen.

"No, that's vermin," said James, "This is urr-minn."

"Ermine also means the white winter fur on animals like weasels and stoats," said Peter, over the laptop speakers. "I looked it up online when I got the box this afternoon." Referring to the box of cakes that had been couriered to Andover, so he could join the rest of the 'wedding committee' in deciding on the kind of cake Abby should make for the wedding.

"But don't you think it's a bit of a cliché?" Quinn wrinkled her nose. "Can't we have something with a bit more pizzazz – like lavender and blueberry, or chocolate and habanero cake? Or should that be jalapeno...?"

"That's a lovely idea, but we're going for romance, not heartburn," James said.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Abby smiled, as Quinn made a face.

"I like chocolate mousse cake," Huck said, "Why isn't there a chocolate mousse cake?"

"Because it doesn't look pretty when you have to take pictures and there's chocolate mousse all over your teeth," said Abby.

"I'm okay with Red Velvet, but if it wouldn't be first on my list. I'd go for mocha, or walnut and coffee, or may be lemon. Yeah, nothing too sweet," said Harrison. "The coconut with lemon icing was good. I'd pick that."

"But it's Valentine's Day," said Karen. "We have to have a red cake for Valentine's Day and the cake layers, from dark red to light red, look so pretty."

"The kid's got a point," said Harrison. "It is Valentine's Day."

"Yep." Huck nodded. "Valentine's. Gotta have red."

"I guess the red rose buds with sugar frosting are kind of pretty too," admitted Quinn.

"Okay, so we're having Red Velvet cake," said Olivia, exchanging a smile with Karen.

James looked at the list on his iPad. "So getting back to my To-Do List: cake – check; decorations –check; menu – check; flowers – check. The invitations, menu cards and name cards – all done. The music is organised. Wedding party and invited guests details have been handed over to the Secret Service and uh, that reminds me, I didn't see your parents on the list, Olivia."

There was a brief silence, then Olivia said brightly, "I only have one parent, James, my dad. And he's not invited."

"So your Dad isn't going to walk you down the aisle?" Quinn's eyes rounded.

"No. I can walk, unaided, on my own two feet."

There was a long silence, then James got to his feet. "Right, let's have a look at those wedding gowns that Abigail got from the bridal boutique in Virginia."

There was a noisy exodus from the table to the guest room where the dresses had been stored. The only people who remained were Olivia, Harrison and the kids.

After a moment, Harrison said diffidently, "Liv, I've got to say something. And I know you're going to hate me for saying it but I'm going to speak my mind because you're the closest thing to family I have around here. So I want you to hear me on this: even if you don't want Rowan to walk you down the aisle, he has to be there."

At Olivia's stony expression, he added quickly, "Now, don't get me wrong. I hate having to say this because I never liked the guy too, but he is your dad, Liv. And you can't cut him out on the most important day of your life."

Karen leaned her head back on Olivia's shoulder and reached up a hand to stroke her cheek, as Jerry cut in with quiet determination, "I can walk you down the aisle, Mom."

Olivia smiled at Jerry, and gave Karen a kiss. Then she looked at Harrison and sighed. "Harrison is right. I do have to tell my Dad."

* * *

"The problem is the man is damned near incorruptible."

"Unlike his father."

There were guwaffs of laughter from the men and polite laughter from the women around the table at Number One Observatory Circle, where Sally and Daniel Langston were hosting a dinner party for a handful of Republican supporters – men who had their feet cemented in America's top one per cent.

"Big Gerry was a man who could never say no to a bribe."

"Or a woman."

This time only the men laughed heartily; the women avoided each other's gaze as they cut into the food on their plates.

"We could always count on the man to be the strong arm of the law. Listening to him threaten some damned Mayor with funding cuts if he didn't approve my building permits and to hell with the gotdamn zoning restrictions, was pure entertainment."

"Pity the son doesn't take after the father."

"If not that, he should have remained the ineffectual idealist he's been the past three years. That head injury of his is doing us all a lot of damage."

"The man did lose his wife," one of the wives ventured. "The shock must have shaken his priorities."

"From what I hear, her replacement is the one lighting a fire under his wazoo, with her damned middle-class expectations of affirmative action."

There was a brief silence, as if the conversational meander had brought them to an unexpected precipice.

"I believe Ms Olivia Pope was introduced to the President by Cyrus Beene," Sally said, carefully dabbing at the corners of her mouth. "A man who displays his depravity with pride. Not only was he the catalyst for that disgraceful affair, which destroyed Fitzgerald's marriage, but he himself married a man to highlight his utter contempt for the traditions of marriage."

There was an easing of the tension around the table. "I must admit it is audacious of the man."

"To marry so soon after the death of his wife."

"I could not stand the wife myself, but he should have waited a decent amount of time, considering the tragic circumstances of her death."

"A tragedy that is punishing the innocent, with these restrictions he is proposing on gun ownership."

"Those laws will never pass through Congress. They got the message after Bloomberg's anti-gun Mayors were run out of town in November."

"Well, I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that our Constitutional right to bear arms is protected," Sally gave a steely smile.

"You can top that assurance by making sure Grant doesn't succeed in turning this great land of opportunity into a gotdamn Socialist country. I sure as heck don't want a redistribution of wealth! I earned every penny my daddy gave me, and I intend to keep it!"

There was general laughter again.

"Oh, I believe I am in total agreement with your views," Sally smiled. "We need to cut cut taxes, cut welfare spending, cut red tape and open up the markets."

"I got to say, Mrs Langston. For a woman, you talk a lot of sense."

"Oh, please, call me Sally," she simpered. "I hope I can call you, Chuck."

"You can call me any damn thing you like, if you can get that get that Socialist kicked out of office!"

His brother, Doug, nodded in agreement. "I never thought I'd be the first to say this, but I think this country is ready to have its first female President. And not on an interim basis."

Sally gave a laugh. "Strange, but I am of the same mind, and to quote that great queen Elizabeth the First, 'I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king."

"Well, if you know of a way to get into the driver's seat, let me tell ya, we're all here to put gas in the tank."

* * *

Olivia was trying not to smile at Jerry's suggestion of a fashion parade for his video diary, as she sat on the couch, between Karen and Peter, via laptop, munching on popcorn and drinking fruit juice.

"Okay, we're ready," Jerry called out.

Quinn came out of the bedroom wearing a white lace gown with an A-line skirt and a plunging neckline.

"Nope," Olivia said

"Why? I like this one," Jerry said.

"You can see her boobies," Karen said.

"What?" Quinn clutched the neckline, and glared at Jerry. "Stop looking at my boobs!"

"I am not!"

"It's okay, you're not showing anything X-rated," Olivia said, "But the neck is too revealing."

"I agree. My parents would not approve of me standing next to all that cleavage," Peter mumbled, the crunch of pop corn audible over the speakers.

"Fine," Jerry sighed wearily as Quinn flounced off to change. "Next!"

This time Abby came out wearing a chiffon, strapless, empire style dress with a beaded waistband.

"It's a bit summery," Olivia said, with a considering tilt of her head. "And we'll probably still have snow in February."

"The White House has heating." Abby frowned.

"I was hoping for a shorter skirt."

"Okay, we want a shorter skirt out here!" Abby called out.

James came out wearing a tea-length gown with a sweetheart neckline that he was holding up with both hands

"I couldn't zip it up the back, but this should give you an idea."

There was a silence, then everyone spoke at once.

"Um, the skirt..." Olivia began.

"Maybe because he's not wearing shoes," Karen said.

"I think it's the hairy chest," Jerry said. "It's distracting."

"And the hairy ankles," Peter said.

"You can see my ankles from over there? Olivia, what brand is that?" James narrowed his gaze on Olivia's laptop.

"Next!" The others called out.

"I'm not happy about this." Harrison came out wearing a tulle ball gown with a chapel train, most of it carried in his arms.

"Well, he's wearing shoes," Karen said.

"But those custom-made leather shoes and purple-striped socks kind of spoil the effect," James said.

"If you let the skirt down, we'll get a better idea," Jerry said.

Harrison rolled his eyes and dropped the skirt. "Happy?"

His audience shook their heads.

"Okay, Huck you're next!"

Huck came out wearing a knee length skirt he was holding with one hand and a jacket that was unbuttoned to reveal a hairy chest.

Karen looked at Olivia. "Is it okay for me to look at him, Mom?"

"Only if you want to," Olivia whispered.

"I like this one," Huck said grimly. "It's pretty."

"This kind of works," Olivia said kindly. "I like the skirt and jacket idea. But there's just something…"

The others contemplated Huck in silence.

"Yeah, maybe if you smile," Harrison said.

Huck smiled.

"Or maybe not. Quit smiling. It worked better the other way."

"Maybe it's the colour, that's wrong," said Peter. They all looked at the laptop screen. "You should wear red. It's a very lucky in Chinese culture. Traditionally, brides wore red."

"Yes, wear red!" Karen clapped her hands. "Your dress can match the cake."

"No, you have to wear Olivia Pope white," Abby shook her head.

"Yeah, the media will never stop talking about you wearing red," Harrison added.

* * *

When the kids and Olivia got back to the White House residence, Karen ran on ahead to find Fitz.

"Mom, Jerry, quick look at Daddy," Karen whispered, chuckling, as she tiptoed out of the East Sitting Hall and gestured Olivia and Jerry forward, with a quick wave of her hands.

They found Fitz asleep on the couch, with all four dogs lying on various parts of him.

Olivia chuckled. "That is too cute!"

"Say 'snooze', Dad!" Jerry grinned, taking a picture with his phone.

He had enough time to take a few quick shots before Rex and Poppy jumped off and came running forward, their tails wagging madly; while Darth looked up from Fitz's chest to give a little yip; and Daisy thumped her tail, squeezed in between Fitz and the couch.

"Hi," Fitz grinned sleepily rubbing his eyes, before he lifted Darth off his chest, and coaxed Daisy aside so he could sit up. "You guys look happy. Has the Grant wedding approval committee finalised all the details?"

Olivia and Jerry sat down on either side of him, while Karen clambered onto his lap.

"Everything, except Mom's dress," Karen said.

"I couldn't decide."

"But we know the cake you're going to have," Karen changed the topic.

"Red velvet cake with ermine frosting. Weird name but it tasted good," Jerry added.

"It was yummy."

Fitz raised a brow. "You guys didn't save me a piece?"

Smiling, Olivia reached into the carrier bag she'd placed on the corner of the couch, and lifted out the sample box of mini cakes, identical to the box that had been sent to Peter.

Fitz gave her a smile and a kiss, which Olivia cut short with a shy smile as she made a production of opening the box.

"We chose this one," Karen pointed to a white square, topped with a sugar-frosted rose bud.

"Pretty." Fitz polished off the cake in two bites, rose and all. "Mmm... yummy."

Karen giggled as Fitz nuzzled her cheek, adding, "I'm going to wear a red dress. And so is Abby and Quinn. Harrison is going to wear a Tux. Huck says he's okay wearing a suit, after he spent all afternoon in a dress."

"Do I even want to know what that is about?" Fitz looked at Olivia.

"Jerry took pictures. It's going to be his gift to us. You'll get to see the video diary after the wedding."

"Yeah?" Fitz bumped Jerry's shoulder.

"Yeah." Jerry bumped back.

"I'm sorry we missed your press conference," Olivia murmured.

"It's okay. We've uploaded the entire session on Youtube."

Jerry did a double-take. "Wow, Dad, welcome to the World Wide Web. You are officially a nerd."

"I was always a nerd," Fitz grinned.

"A sexy nerd," Olivia said softly, leaning against Fitz, earning herself a look that centred on her lips.

Jerry gave an exaggerated yawn. "This wedding stuff is hard work. I'm tired. Kaz should be too. Come on, say goodnight."

"I'm not tired," Karen frowned.

"Yes, you are." Jerry made a face at her.

"Oh! Yes, I am!" Karen grinned, giving Olivia and Fitz a kiss and a hug, followed quickly by Jerry.

Then they both disappeared.

"Should I be worried, that my kids know when I want to kiss you badly?" Fitz asked.

Olivia laughed. "I'd be worried if you didn't want to kiss me," she whispered, as he leaned into her so they lay sprawled on the couch.

He kissed her long and lazily, then handed her the cake box and said 'feed me'.

"You are not eating all of them tonight."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"We can share."

"Even sharing, that's a lot of sugar."

Fitz kissed the tip of her nose, and smiled. "You know it's customary to get me naked if you want to play doctor."

"Which doctors have been making a custom of that? I need names, addresses, mug shots if available."

He laughed. "You're cute when you get jealous."

"Names, Fitz."

He looked at her with smoky eyes, until she said huskily, "Maybe we should continue this conversation in the bedroom. After I put the cakes away in the kitchen for you to have tomorrow."

"Awww... can't I at least try the one with the coconut flakes?"

She rolled her eyes. "All right, but that's it. The others will have to keep for tomorrow."

He gave her a noisy kiss. "I love you."

"I'll take that under advisement, after I check out your doctors."

He chuckled, kissing her again before releasing her, and helping her off the couch. "So what's the problem with the dress?"

"I don't know, they were a bit Southern Belle-ish."

Fitz slipped his arm around her waist as they exited the room, placing a lingering kiss on her temple. "You won't look anything like her."

"I know... it's just," Olivia sighed, then gave a soft chuckle. "Peter said I should wear red."

Fitz grinned. "You'll be gorgeous in red."

"But my dad would not approve." Olivia paused, scrunching her nose. "Maybe I should wear red, just to annoy him."

Fitz stopped abruptly. "Your Dad?"

"Yep, Harrison talked me into inviting him."

"Harrison? What did he do?"

"Just explained the importance of family."

"Hey, I did that, and you didn't listen."

"There are ways. And there are ways."

"Huh. Is Harrison interested in joining the Republican Party? I could use a man like him in Congress."

Olivia glanced at him as they entered the Private Kitchen. "Still no support for the anti-gun proposal?"

"None. From my own party. I've had more offers of support from the Democrats, especially the Senate, with Edison's working the numbers in my favour."

"Edison?"

"Edison." He watched her face, but Olivia kept her expression bland. "What about the House?"

"That's where I've got the biggest roadblock."

Olivia placed the cake box on the counter, and approached Fitz, sliding her arms around his waist. "Well, Mr Sexy President, I think it's time to use your Presidential superpowers."

He grinned, sliding his hands down her back. "Oh, I'm going to, Mrs Grant-Pope."

She gave a husky laugh. "I was talking about an executive order."

* * *

**A/N: So thanks to President Obama's SOTU 2014 address where (to paraphrase Jon Stewart of _The Daily Show_) he essentially said 'F*ck all y'all' to Congress, I have learnt of the wonders of an Executive Order. However, I will try to give Fitz some new material instead of stealing all of Barack Obama's initiatives ;)))) #FuturisticWorldParliament-Obama4President-2020!**

**So for the other stuff I stole for this chapter - there was the Iranian update: _Sanctions lifted after Iran curbs nuclear programme_ - written by Charlotte McDonald-Gibson in The Independent on Jan 20, 2014;**

**_Bloomberg's Anti-Gun Lobby Takes Another Huge Hit With 23 Reelection Failures_- by Katie Pavlich published in Townhall-dot-com, on Nov 8, 2013**

**Chuck and Doug are loosely based (Klunkett style) on these guys: _Political activities of the Koch brothers_- article on Wikipedia.**

**_The Top Talk Radio Audiences_ from Talkers-Dot-Com which gives the weekly figures for January 2014. Rush Limbaugh rules apparently (*whyyyyeeeeee!*)**


	13. Chrysalis

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"I'd like to thank each and every one of you for giving up your Saturday to be here at such short notice. Your dedication is remarkable and we appreciate it," Fitzgerald Grant said, looking at the interns assembled in the East Room.

"Having said that, I want to remind you that this a request, not a command. It's okay, if you've changed your mind about being here and decide you'd rather be home, watching a movie or walking the dog," He paused at the encouraging bark from Daisy, sitting at his feet, followed by a ripple of laughter. "Daisy approves of option two."

There was more laughter.

"So does anyone want to leave?"

No one moved.

"If you change your mind, just let Jan or Pete know." He indicated the White House aides, standing behind him. "Or they'll worry that you've been abducted by those aliens we keep in the basement."

Again there was laughter.

"So for those of you determined to stay, your folders contain a list of telephone numbers – each folder has a different list so you won't be doubling up on calls. These numbers belong to key members of advocacy groups either for gun rights, or for gun control. We want to know their top five concerns, and what's number one on their wish list of any legislative initiatives.

"Once you've done that, I would like to know your views, for and against gun control within the framework of our Bill of Rights, not just the Second Amendment."

"Excuse me, sir, but isn't that the job of the White House lawyers?" one of the interns asked.

Fitz grinned. "You're right, but sometimes it helps to get a fresh perspective and you are all my fresh perspective. Out of interest, are you for or against gun control, TJ?"

The intern appeared taken aback that Fitz knew his name, then he rallied. "I'm against, sir."

"Then I'd like to hear your views for gun control. Think of this as a college debate. The Supreme Court is your opposition. And..." Fitz swept his gaze over the interns again, "...all I ask is that you keep your essays to under 1000 words, with a brief summary of your argument. This would be a kindness to me – even though I'm a good speed reader, I'm not that good."

Again there was laughter.

"Now, as you're aware you'll be working out of the offices you're normally assigned to. If you need anything else, let Jan or Pete know or come see me, I'll be in the Oval office. Any questions? No? Great, let's get to work!"

* * *

"Hi."

"Hi. That was quick."

"I'm a fast talker, and most of them were too intimidated to ask questions," Fitz smiled. "Like you said, I need to get more involved with the volunteers. This was a good start."

"Mm, very good start."

"How are my girls?"

"We're very excited to be taking a trip on Marine One. Baby K is sitting next to me with her nose stuck to the window."

Fitz chuckled. "Let me know how you go."

"We will. Would you like anything from the Mid West?"

"Only my girls back safely." When she didn't respond immediately, he asked, "Hey, are you still there?"

"Yep, still here."

He smiled at her husky response. "I love you."

"I love you too. And here's Baby K."

Fitz had just finished speaking to his daughter, when Jerry came out of Oval Office, holding Teddy at arm's length.

"The little dude's a bit stinky. I think he's done poos."

Lifting Teddy into his arms, Fitz took a whiff of his nappy, and agreed. "Yep. He sure has. A motherload by the smell of it."

"Want me to take him to the nurse?"

"I'll take him. This might be my only chance to spend time with him today."

As they walked down the hallway towards the residence, Jerry said, "You know, Dad, I've been thinking..."

"Yeah?" Fitz angled a wary look, which prompted a grin from Jerry.

"Dad, don't give me that look."

"Said the kid who nearly got us incinerated by a nuclear missile."

"Geez, Dad, that was a one off, and I learned from that mistake. Now I only tweet harmless stuff, like that picture of you with the dogs last night."

"What?" Fitz stopped dead in his tracks.

"Dad, it was just a picture of you on the couch with the dogs. Nothing serious. I put it on Instagram, and Facebook, now it's going around Tumblr and people are writing captions on Twitter."

"Jerry..."

"Dad, before you go ballistic, you should know that the PrezAlert hashtag is trending on Twitter. That's better than the 30 people who watched your yawnfest Press Conference on Youtube."

Fitz gave an exasperated sigh and resumed walking. "Jerry, talking about nuclear disarmament is a bit like calculus – complex therefore boring, but necessary."

"Yeah, Dad, that's okay if you only want Math nerds to vote for you, but what about the rest of the school – you know the jocks, geeks, emos and weirdos. You've got to appeal to a lot more people."

Fitz turned to Jerry, a smile ghosting his lips. "Rowan was right, you are a very smart kid."

"Wait, did you say Rowan? Mom's fake dad? That Rowan? He said I'm smart."

"Yep. And he's not Mom's fake dad. He's her real dad, and I get the impression he likes you."

Jerry thought for a bit. "Nuh, still don't like him."

"Jer, he's going to be family," Fitz said softly.

"Anyway what I was thinking, is that you should get kids talking about what scares them about guns. There's a lot of kids who've seen their friends die in school or in the neighbourhood, so why not get them talking?"

Fitz secured Teddy in one arm, then snaked the other out to haul Jerry into a hug, adding a kiss on top of his curly head for good measure.

"Dad! Get off!" Jerry protested, struggling, but he didn't bother hiding the big grin on his face.

* * *

"Mr Guildford."

"Now, Olivia," The tall, white-haired man grinned as he gathered Olivia into a hug. "I know it's been a few years since you helped my son, but I do remember asking you to call me Hank the first time we met."

Olivia smiled. "Hank, thank you for seeing me at such short notice."

"Olivia, we're honoured to be part of the President's campaign. Now, who is this lovely young lady holding onto your hand as if she's afraid to let go?"

Keeping her left hand tucked firmly in Olivia's, Karen extended her right. "Hello, I'm Karen."

"Well, hello, Karen that's a lovely name for a lovely young lady." Hank Guilford bent at the waist to shake her hand. "Now my confidential sources tell me that you love horses. Is that true?"

Karen smiled, sneaking a glance at Olivia. "Yes, it's true. Mom said you have Appaloosas."

"That I do. I used to breed them, but now I give a home to the old and blind ones."

They were interrupted by a whirr of wheels across the floor tiles, and Hank turned round grinning. "Ah, the cavalry has arrived to rescue you from my horse talk."

"Hank, I knew you'd be holding these poor girls hostage. Olivia, it's so lovely to see you again, my dear." The salt and pepper-haired woman in the wheelchair embraced Olivia, before turning to Karen. "And this must Karen Grant. Oh now, don't be shy. Come over here and give me a hug."

"Ginny," Hank addressed the new arrival. "Karen here was asking me about the Appaloosas."

"Oh, you love horses too? Now isn't that a coincidence? My grand-daughter loves horses and she's visiting us this weekend."

Ginny turned her chair around, then holding hands with Karen, she led the way through the sprawling home while Olivia and Hank followed at a more leisurely pace.

"Now from what that little girl said, I believe congratulations are in order," Hank turned to Olivia with a twinkle in his eye.

"It's not official yet. We're getting married next month, but we haven't gone public with the news, because of what happened."

"Ah, yes the tragedy at Blair House."

Olivia angled a glance at him. "It's okay, you can say her name."

Hank smiled, taking her hand and tucking it through his arm. "My dear Olivia, I'm not being sensitive to your feelings. Well, perhaps a smidgin. But I met the woman when her father and I moved in the same circles. She was a nasty piece of work; went out of her way to insult my Ginny, and I have never forgiven her for that.

"But I must not speak ill of the dead." He patted Olivia's hand. "And I am pleased that the man who captured your elusive heart is none other than President Grant. He's an impressive young man; Ginny started campaigning for him, the day after he went on national television to declare his love for you. So ignore the hate-mongers, my dear, and know that you have friends who are 100 per cent in support of your marriage."

Olivia gave a wry smile. "You and Ginny are in a unique position to know the problems Fitz will face by marrying me."

"Olivia, Ginny and I married seven years after the Loving case in 1967, but people's minds had not caught up with the law. I would say they still haven't. Ginny had a harder time of it, than I did; just as I'm sure you will, compared to the President. But could you live without him?"

"No. I tried. It didn't work for either of us."

"And it didn't work for Ginny or I. Yes, it will be difficult, Olivia. But seeing you and the President be happy together, is what we need to understand the beauty of love in all its many shades."

* * *

"We got the right to keep and bear arms from the 1689 English Bill of Rights, and the English came with it after King James II of England disarmed the Protestants in favour of the Catholics."

"The English said Parliament not the Monarchy could regulate the right to bear arms. So when you think about it, the Parliament armed the public so they couldn't be kicked out by the King's army."

"They were living in a state of war between their government and their king. But the Parliament realised that when the Monarchy lost influence, an armed public would turn against the government, which is why the United Kingdom, Canada and Australia abolished this common law right by Statute in the last century."

"And we enshrined it in the Second Amendment of our Constitution, because our Founding Fathers couldn't imagine a day when a kid would use a semi-automatic rifle to gun down a bunch of elementary school kids."

Fitz looked at his security advisors and legal counsel sprawled on couches, armchairs and even the carpet in their casual clothes, wearing the same intent expressions they had during the working week.

"Paranoia is what made gun ownership a right, and it's a gift that keeps on giving to the NRA. Nothing sells more guns than fear."

"Sir, but the Constitution doesn't say we have the right to assault weapons."

"Or the right to avoid background checks."

"Or that we have the right to own armour-piercing bullets."

Fitz digested that information, before posing another question. "What about the illegal trafficking of firearms and the Gun Show loophole?"

"We could make it a law that you need a Federal Firearms License to sell firearms at a gun show."

"Yeah, those licensees are required by law to do a background check using the FBI's National Instant Criminal Background Check System."

"Or we could have a specific gun show permit that incorporates the safety check requirement."

"You know, what gets me, is that we have stricter regulations for building and food safety than we do for the sale of guns." One advisor shook his head.

Another looked at him. "We're not exactly breaking new ground here – we already have seven States demanding background checks on all gun sales at gun shows. We just need to make that a federal requirement."

Fitz tapped his pen on the notepad in front of him. "What about the issue of kids having access to guns?"

* * *

"Olivia, you know Hank and I are not in total agreement on this issue," Virginia Guilford said as she topped up the plate of home-made cookies.

They were seated on the patio at the back, with a clear view of the paddock where, in the company of the Guilford's teenaged grand-daughter, Karen was feeding apples and carrots to handful of horses crowding near the fence.

Olivia smiled. "That's why I chose the two of you. We need to hear more than one perspective."

"I know Ginny believes in responsible gun ownership as opposed to gun control, partly because of her heritage."

"Mostly because of my heritage. It's no secret that the Klu Klux Klan were among the first to advocate gun control because they wanted to disarm African Americans and leave us defenceless. The legacy of race is never too far from this debate."

Hank reached for Ginny's hand, taking it in both of his. "I am well aware of the Black Codes that operated in the Southern States after the Civil war. And that Martin Luther King Jr was refused a gun permit in 1956, after his house was bombed."

"He was denied a permit by the police, even though the NRA and Republican Party supported his application."

"Not out of the goodwill of their hearts, Ginny. You know the colour of money rules in this country. But look at where we are at now – gun violence is the number one cause of death among African American kids."

Ginny gave Hank a wry look. "I know that, Hank. I read the figures by the Children's Defence Fund –that more African American children—"

"60,000" Hank said.

"That 60,000 of our kids have been killed by guns between 1963 and 2010, which is seventeen times more than the total number of African Americans lynched between 1862 and 1968."

A heavy silence followed Ginny's statement and Hank shifted closer to her. Then a shout of laughter from the paddock, drew their attention to the two girls getting nuzzled by the group of eager horses, and the tension dissipated.

Ginny turned to face Olivia. "I can understand that the personal tragedies suffered by President Grant, are giving him the impetus to fight against the tide on this issue. He was shot, and that woman he married was killed. But he's a Republican, and Republican Presidents don't fight for gun control. Even Ronald Reagan who passed one of the toughest laws on gun control - the 1967 Mulford Act - during his time as Governor of California, went on to become the first presidential candidate in a hundred years to be endorsed by the NRA."

"You fight to protect the ones you love, Ginny." Hank murmured, "Just like I stand with the President, if he's serious about tighter gun control. I don't want anyone else to go through what you did, Ginny."

"Hank, you know I got shot by accident. It wasn't premeditated. It was a random drive-by shooting; I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. But I was lucky enough to live… It hurts me ever day to remember those kids who didn't survive."

"Kids, Ginny, like our grand-daughter."

"I know, Hank! Don't think I don't know that!" Ginny glared at Hank. "But we have to be real about all this. We need to have protections that won't make people have a knee-jerk reaction to their Constitutional rights! The only way we can make headway is if we increase victims' rights; make the gun manufacturers responsible for their product like Big Tobacco. That's what I'm talking about. We won't get anywhere if we keep talking about taking away people's guns."

Hank leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek, reminding Olivia of Fitz.

And just like Fitz, Hank then sneaked a kiss on Ginny's lips until a rogue smile appeared and she pushed him away.

"You're embarrassing, Olivia," Ginny said primly.

"She don't look embarrassed to me," Hank said, with an unrepentant grin.

"Nope," Olivia shook her head.

"Oh, don't encourage him. He's too much of a reprobate as it is."

"But she loves me anyway," Hank chuckled, giving his wife another kiss.

* * *

When Marine One touched down on the South Lawn, Fitz was waiting for them on the helipad.

"Daddy!" Karen launched herself into his arms, squealing with delight when she was lifted off her feet. "Did you miss us?"

"Maybe a little," he grinned hugging her tightly. Then shifted her in his arms to gather Olivia close, and give her a kiss.

"Did you guys have a good time?"

"Very good," Olivia smiled, hooking her arm around his waist, as Fitz carried Karen across the lawn.

"Daddy, can I have a horse?"

Fitz raised a brow at Olivia, who just smiled. Then he turned to Karen and said, "No," before kissing her nose.

"So I can have one for my birthday?"

"No."

"Christmas?"

"No."

"Daddy!"

"Pumpkin!'

She giggled then cried, "Oh look, there's Poppy!"

Fitz set her on her feet so she could go running to greet her dog, racing towards her.

Then with a soft rumble of satisfaction, Fitz wrapped his arm around Olivia's shoulder and kissed her as they walked.

"Someone's happy," she teased him.

"Mmm..." He kissed her temple. "Someone has unpacked her bags and decided to stay."

"I didn't take any bags on this trip."

He chuckled softly. "I'm talking about the bags you've had ready and waiting to get out of the White House, to avoid being First Lady."

Her startled gaze clashed with his, and he grinned.

She gave a rueful smile. "You know this was never about you."

"I know."

"I love you. And the kids. Even the dogs."

"I know."

"It was always about the job. "

"I know."

"But I think I'm okay about it now."

"You think?"

"Baby steps, mister. This isn't an epiphany; it's a work-in-progress."

He stopped to cup her face and kiss her full on the mouth. "Any progress is good." Then he raised his head and said huskily, "Want a piggy back to your new incarceration complex?"

She laughed. "Yes! Let's race Baby K and Poppy!"

* * *

**A/N: I feel like I've lined up way too many soap boxes for this story, but the truth is – it's an addiction and there is no cure! I lurrrrrve US politics and sadly I will bombard you with errrrything I can find and misrepresent in my crash-learning of whatever the hell is going on right now or as close to right now as I can get! Hopefully I remember to include some Scandalish stuff as part of the story! **

**So there's the reference to ****_Loving v Virginia_**** 1967 (Thank you – Clio1792!) the Supreme Court case involving Mildred and Richard Loving, which overturned laws banning interracial marriage in the United States. Yes, that's only been legal since 1967!  
**

**A lot of the gun stuff for the conversations was taken from the following : _Black youth gun deaths exceed US lynchings-_**** by Janell Ross in The Age on Oct 9, 2013; ****_For some blacks, gun control raises echoes of segregated past_**** by Ehab Zahriyeh in Al Jazeera America on Sep 1, 2013; ****_The Secret History of Guns_**** - by Adam Winkler in The Atlantic on Jul 24, 2011; ****_Right to Keep and Bear Arms_****- Wikipedia.**

**I also filched President Obama's gun initiatives : _Obama Gun Control Proposals Unveiled, Marking Biggest Legislative Effort In A Generation_**** - by Sam Stein and John Rudolf in Huffington Post on Jan 16, 2013 (there's a link in there that takes you to the 23 executive initiatives President Obama has already signed through. And the Guilfords were inspired by Gabrielle Gifford, but I couldn't have a white ex-Congresswoman as that would not tell the other side of the story. **

**And I had a bunch of interns doing cold-calling instead of what actually happened with Vice President Joe Biden's task force holding 22 meetings with 229 organisations over two weeks in January last year, after the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre.  
**


	14. Backlash

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers- Oops, forgot disclaimer at first posting of this chapter!  
**

* * *

_"...Presidential Piggyback is what's trending this morning. First there was the picture of him looking like a doggy bed, now we have him racing across the snow-covered South Lawn with the First Fiancee on his back. That was enough to sent Twitter into meltdown at another glimpse of the private life of our current president. But questions are being asked on Capitol Hill, is this just a distraction to keep our attention away from the real agenda - taking away our Constitutional right to keep and bear arms? Sources say there is an Executive Order on gun control being drafted as we speak..."_

_"...The President playing happy families is cute, very cute. I was even thinking of voting for the guy now that I know he's a dog person. But, hey, I don't care how much he loves his dogs, I'm not going let him take away my right to own a gun! Not happening! And this sure isn't the Wild West. He can't just ride on up with his posse and lay down the law in a frontier town. No way, not happening. If he wants a law on gun control, he has to pass it through Congress; he has to work on getting the numbers. The truth is, he doesn't have the numbers. Not even from his own party. So tough luck, Mr President, you can't throw a hissy fit and make your own rules, because you don't like the ones we've got..."_

_"...Is the President trying to pull a fast one - distract us with pictures of dogs and piggy back rides, when in actual fact the man is trying to invalidate one of our fundamental rights? That's the question everyone's asking around here. But is that what he's doing? From the draft details that have been leaked from the White House, the President isn't talking about taking away our rights to own a gun. He's talking about keeping guns out of the hands of our children. Out of the hands of convicted criminals and people with a history of mental illness. Now why would anyone have a problem with that?_

Fitz switched off the television in the ante-chamber and walked into the Oval Office just as Cyrus slammed his way in from the direction of Lauren's office.

"Have you lost your mind?" Cyrus glared at Fitz. "You're a first term president! You don't take an initiative like this, not unless you want to commit career suicide! You wait! You wait until you win a second term before you say fuck 'em all all to hell, I'm going to do things my way!"

"I can't wait for a second term. It may never happen. Just like the first term shouldn't have happened."

"Sir!" Cyrus hissed. "We don't even hint at that in this office!"

"But we have to consider the possibility that unless a similar backroom deal is done, I won't get a second term."

"So you're determined to lose what little hope you have and be a one term president?"

"Might not be such a bad thing. I'd like to spend more time with Olivia and the kids."

"You are spending more time with her! More time than is good for my health! I can't believe she's helping you nuke all your chances for re-election!"

"Cyrus, she's helping me be the President I've always dreamed of being. I cannot fault her for that and neither will you."

"Mr President, you are running an administration! You can't go around acting like you're the _Lone Ranger_. And that we're in another episode of the _Brady Bunch_."

"I think you mean _Arrow_ and _Modern Family_."

Cyrus looked at Fitz blankly, then his scowl became even more ferocious. "Sir, this is not a joke! You can't have Jerry encouraging kids to talk about how much they hate guns on his Facebook page! We like guns. That's our platform. The _Republican_ platform!"

"I'd like this Administration to have a different agenda to the Gun Lobby. They can't keep winning all the fights. The District of Columbia had to settle the class action suit with KKK because they didn't have the time, resources or money to keep fighting in court."

"That wasn't a win for the Gun Lobby. We kept the DC firearm restrictions in place. And we kept their guns and turned them into gardening tools."

"But we had to go easy on sentencing. As for the confiscated guns, that's a hollow victory, when gun manufacturers armed those criminals again as a publicity stunt." Fitz gave a wry grimace, which changed into a genuine smile when he added, "I think Jerry's idea is awesome, and it's working. He's had kids from all across the country get involved, and some of his classmates have already told him they'll be taping sessions in the cafeteria today."

Cyrus stared at him for a moment, then threw up his hands and stalked out of the Oval Office.

* * *

He was still fuming when he nearly crashed into Olivia heading towards the Oval Office. Catching her elbow, Cyrus steered her further down the passageway, growling, "We need to talk."

Her surprise turned to outrage as she stared pointedly at his grip on her arm, but Cyrus didn't let go until they were in his office with the door shut behind them, after a curt command to his secretary to hold all calls.

"Olivia," Cyrus began.

But she cut him off. "Cyrus, I do not appreciate being manhandled like that! If you want to talk, we'll talk but I will not be hauled in here like a truant child being taken to the principal's office!"

"A truant child?! Have you any idea what you've done?! That man thinks he's the next Franklin Delano Roosevelt! He's forgotten that he's a_ Republican_ President! And Republican presidents don't push social agendas! No, what we do is make people who sell weapons and oil and tobacco and stocks and bonds and every other _wealth_-generating enterprise, happy. They are the ones _we_ look after!"

Olivia took a deep breath and stepped closer to Cyrus. "Well, _we_ don't want to do that anymore. Fitz was never about that, you know he wasn't! That's why you wanted me to run his campaign, because you saw that he had heart, he had vision, he wasn't the kind of guy who would stand up there and make empty promises."

Cyrus glared at her, then he gave a weary sigh and sat down in the nearest armchair. "Do you know that Sally Langston has been meeting with Chuck and Doug Cosh, and several other bank rollers to get support for her insidious campaign to undermine Fitz. We're not talking about a bunch of crazy nerds on the Internet now, Olivia. We're talking Big Business, and if we upset those guys, and I mean _really_ upset them, you know we won't have a hope in hell of winning the next election."

Olivia stared at him for a moment, then walked over and sat on the edge of his desk.

"Cyrus, Fitz was shot. I can still hear every single bang in my head without even trying. He could have died. He nearly did." She took a deep breath. "Anything he wants to do, to make it safe so that I don't have to see him in a hospital bed, wondering if he's going to make it out of there alive…" she broke off, and stared straight ahead at the picture of Fitz hanging on the wall.

Cyrus looked at her. "How is this Executive Order going to achieve that? The guy who tried to kill him was an assassin for hire. He wasn't a registered felon or a known lunatic."

"Which is why Fitz wants to increase funding for Police and FBI cyber investigation units." Olivia left the desk, and took a seat opposite Cyrus. "This is just the first step. This Executive Order is not going to have all the answers, but it's a step in the right direction. Fitz doesn't want to sit back and wait for Congress to stall another bill. He wants to take action, and I support him on this. I really do."

"Supporting him in a vague 'good job, sweetheart' kind of way, is different to taking off in Marine One on a fact finding mission. You are not part of this administration, Olivia. You are the fiancee, and soon to be wife. That means you concern yourself with what you're going to wear today, how the flowers look and ways to make your staff run around organising little social events that lift your profile as a good little First Lady."

Olivia sat back. "That's not going to happen. I see that you've given me most of Mellie's ex-staffers to work with in the East Wing, but I am not going to fill her shoes, Cy. And I'm not going to let you squeeze me into a straight-jacket, to be as useful as a Christmas tree. Not when I was the one you used to call when you had a problem."

Cyrus looked at her owlishly. "Yes, but now _you_ are my problem. Fitz is not consulting me. This entire gun control thing happened without my knowledge. How am I supposed to do my job when you are undermining the very existence of this Administration?"

Olivia got to her feet. "I will not be a vaguely supportive ornament just because you feel your position as trusted confidante is threatened. If you want to be on Team Fitz, know that I'm part of it too."

* * *

Fitz looked up from the papers on his desk when Lauren knocked and opened the door. "Sir, one of the interns would like to see you. He said his name is TJ Broadhurst."

"Send him in."

Fitz stood up, coming around his desk to greet the tall, lanky intern who entered.

"TJ, I've been going through your brief. It's impressive. There are several points we agree on – all gun owners shouldn't be held responsible for the actions of the criminally-insane or just plain criminal. And I'm glad to see that you agree with stricter background checks, especially at gun shows. But the part that impressed me was where you said victims should be able to sue the gun sellers for negligence if they fail in their duty of care."

"Thank you, sir." TJ gave a small smile, looking uncomfortable.

Fitz paused, then said, "Take a seat."

They sat on the couch together, and when TJ still appeared reluctant to speak, Fitz prompted, "TJ, what's on your mind?"

"The interns here do a lot of work."

"I know. The White House couldn't function half as well without them."

"That's right. We do the work of a regular staff member, but we don't get their pay or their benefits."

"There around 300 interns like you working here, TJ, we can't afford to put all of you on the payroll. That's why we stress that this is a volunteer work-experience program. That's what you agreed to be before you arrived."

TJ looked even more uncomfortable, then he muttered, "Sir, have you heard of the Fair Pay Campaign?"

"Yes, I have heard about that. And I know more than a 100 Interns who have filed lawsuits to claim what they see as unpaid wages."

"A federal judge ruled that companies like Fox Searchlight broke labour laws by using unpaid interns, and the Lean In Foundation of Sheryl Sandberg has started a paid internship program after legal action was taken against them."

"Fox Searchlight didn't follow the six-point checklist set by the Labor Department, for employers hiring interns. Here at the White House, we don't fall under the Fair Labor Standards Act, we come under the Congressional Accountability Act as you must know, TJ, because you would have done your homework before you decided to have this conversation with me."

"Yes, sir," TJ sighed. "But the current system favours rich kids. It doesn't help the kids whose parents can't afford to rent a place in DC for three months, pay for their food, clothes, transport, or even a night out."

Fitz looked long and hard at TJ. "Doesn't your father play golf with Daniel Langston?"

TJ face turned red. "Uh, yes, sir."

"Did your father ask you to speak to me about this?"

TJ squirmed. "He, uh, supported me, sir. I think it's not fair that interns don't get paid, and Dad agrees with me. I just thought, after the weekend, now would be a good time to ask you about it, sir."

Fitz turned away, and stood up. "Leave this with me, TJ. I'll get back to you on what I can do."

"Thank you, sir," The boy said looking more relieved than when he'd arrived.

* * *

Once TJ had left the room, Fitz asked Lauren to put a call through to TJ's father, Samuel Broadhurst.

"Sam. It's been a long time... I'm just touching base with the parents of a few of our interns… No, no, nothing's wrong. TJ's a great kid. Thank you for letting him help us here at the White House. You know, we couldn't do half the work we do without the help of kids like him…yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. The problem isn't about the ethics of paying interns. I agree they should earn a wage, at least a minimum wage, for basic living expenses but the problem is that it's going to cost between $3-4 million to pay them... Yeah, chicken feed to a guy like you, Sam, but a hefty chunk from our tax-payer funded budget… so I have a solution, but I wanted to run it by you first, see how you feel about it… "

Once Fitz finished the call, he glanced at his watch with a frown. Then leaving his seat, he walked towards Lauren's office, saying, "Lauren, can you check where—" He paused as Olivia walked through the outer doorway, "No, never mind. She's here." He grinned, as Olivia walked straight into his waiting arms.

Closing the door on Lauren's smiling face, Fitz rumbled a sigh of satisfaction as he settled his mouth on Olivia's. Then groaned when her hands smoothed over his shoulders, sliding down his back to squeeze his ass. He chuckled against her lips, biting gently. "I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."

"We have fifteen minutes."

"It's with the council of church elders."

"Oh." Olivia drew back.

He chuckled kissing the tip of her nose, before taking her hand and leading her behind the desk, to settle her on his lap. "I did a thing."

"Good thing or bad thing?" she asked huskily, watching his fingers unbutton her jacket.

"Good thing," Fitz mumbled against her lips as she drew close, while his hand slipped inside to cup a lace-covered breast. "I asked Samuel Broadhurst to think about being a Friend of the White House?"

"The financier? Isn't he a friend of Sally Langston's?" She moaned, as his clever fingers caressed her.

"A friend of Sally's husband. They're golf buddies," he drawled huskily, as she shifted to nibble his ear.

"And what does a Friend of the White House have to do?"

"Help the White House set up a scholarship fund to sponsor less well-off kids on internship programs. I've asked him to consider giving up $5000 a kid. And the sponsors get a table at the Governors' State Dinner."

"That's…clever, pimping out a State Dinner." She smiled, meeting his wicked gaze. Then placing her hand over his, she made him pause long enough for her to say on a serious note. "Cyrus said Sally has been meeting with the Cosh brothers, and a few other heavyweights."

"I know," Fitz leaned his head against the back of the chair.

"You need to watch her, Fitz," she said, lifting a hand to stroke his face.

He turned and kissed her palm, making her giggle as he made circles on her skin with the tip of his tongue.

Then they both jumped as the phone rang.

As Olivia quickly buttoned her jacket, Fitz reached for the phone.

"Sir, the US Attorney General is on the line and he wants to speak with you urgently," Lauren said, calmly.

Fitz sighed and asked her to be the call through. Then sat back as Olivia straightened his tie and smoothed down his hair, but when she went to stand, he held on to her, just as the attorney general said, "Sir, we have a problem. A federal court in the state of Georgia has issued a Temporary Restraining Order against the issue of any and all Executive Orders on gun control."

"We didn't have any warning?"

"No, sir. The complaint filed by a local chapter of the Gun Lobby, and it looks like they have powerful friends in the area."

Olivia pressed her ear to the receiver as Fitz asked tersely, "Who's representing us down there?"

"Patrick Dent. He's the federal prosecutor assigned to the case. That's not good, sir, we've heard rumours that he's sympathetic to gun rights advocacy groups, and he's not afraid to be seen supporting them."

* * *

**A/N: So there really is an issue of unpaid internships which apparently was in the news last year. You can read about it in ****_Should White House Interns Be Paid?_**** By Nathan Parcells written in FedSmith on Oct 28, 2013; ****_Cost to pay White House interns: $2.5 million_**** by Emily Jane Fox, CNN Money on Aug 21, 2013. And I thought I'd throw that issue in there like I was making a stew with everything that's left in the 'fridge. ;))))**

**The information on a temporary restraining order (TRO) was mashed and (probably inaccurately) used in this story from info gathered off Wikipedia, on ****_Injunction_**** and ****_Preliminary Injunction_****. **

**And THANK YOU again, to those still reading this story and leaving your encouraging comments, I really REALLY appreciate it !**


	15. Hunt and Prey

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"So what do we know about Patrick Dent?" Olivia asked the OPA, sitting in the Gulfstream that Fitz had organised to fly them to Georgia.

"He likes to hunt," said Quinn, turning her laptop around to show a series of photographs taken of a large man with sunburnt skin, grinning into the camera. "Ducks, geese, moose, deer, an elephant, a couple of lions—"

"Hey, is that even legal?" Harrison looked disgusted.

"Yeah, it is in some countries, like South Africa. They call it controlled hunting," Huck said grimly.

"Okay, enough with the dead animals... We know he's married with two kids, but he has a weakness," Abby said with a sly smirk. "David's source sang like a bird, and you'll never guess what this man is into."

"Wait, David Rosen? Are you back with him?" Harrison frowned.

Abby shrugged. "Yeah. We went on a date last night. It was okay. So you know…" She shrugged again.

"She went on a date just to get information from him," Quinn said with a grimace.

"No, I didn't, Lindsay. It's none of your beeswax why I see David," Abby glared at her.

"Getting back to Patrick Dent, what's his weakness – hookers?" Olivia asked. "Gambling? Drink? Drugs? What?"

"No, he likes cross-dressing, and getting spanked by men in tight leather pants," Quinn grinned, looking at Harrison and Huck.

"Wait? What? Why are you looking at the two of us?" Harrison scowled.

"Because it can't be us," Abby gestured at the three women. "He doesn't get turned on by women in tight pants. So it'll have to be you."

"We wore dresses. We can do leather pants," Huck said, solemnly.

Harrison shook his head. "Look, man, I don't do shit like this. It's not why I went to law school." He looked at Olivia. "We need to focus on the judge. Why aren't we focusing on the judge?"

Olivia leaned back in the soft leather seat. "Judge Claudette Liston was appointed by Fitz, and she's a relative of Antoinette Tuff the school clerk who prevented a mass shooting in a school near Atlanta, Georgia."

"Yeah, I heard about that, this was at.." Harrison snapped his fingers, trying to recall details.

"At the Ronald E McNair Discovery Learning Academy in Decatur, Georgia," Olivia supplied. "She talked the gunman into giving up his AK-47 assault rifle and other weapons."

"Yeah, she talked to the guy for an hour. Enough time for the school to evacuate 870 kids."

"Oh, I remember, it happened in August, right?" Quinn frowned. "But it didn't make the media rounds as much."

"As much as if the shooter, the _potential _shooter, had actually killed those kids," Abby shook her head in disgust.

"The shooter, Michael Hill, was off his meds," Olivia said, "Because his Medicaid had expired." Then she paused as Agent Tom walked up to their conference table.

"Ma'am, we'll be landing shortly. And the President wants to talk to you." He extended a mobile phone to Olivia.

"Thank you, Tom." Olivia took the phone, moving away from the OPA, past the retinue of Secret Service agents accompanying them on the trip, to get some privacy.

"Hi," she smiled. "You have to stop worrying about me."

"I always worry about you."

"I'll be safe with the army you've sent to protect me."

"Six agents don't make an army, Liv, but you're not to go anywhere without Tom. I've made that clear to him."

"Okay, tough guy, I won't get Tom in trouble," she chuckled. "What about Judge Liston?"

"I've contacted an ex-Navy buddy of mine, a state senator. He's sending people from his own security team to guard the Judge. The Sherriff's department is not involved." Fitz paused, making rustling noises in the background. "And the Executive Order is ready to go. I'll be signing it the instant you let us know of the court's decision."

"I'll let you know the second the Judge gives her ruling, if she decides in our favour. She may not, Fitz, and even if she did, the other side may have the appeal ready to be filed in the 11th Circuit Court."

"I'm ready for that too. So is the US Attorney General," Fitz paused, then added softly "…. I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"But you're enjoying this."

"Yes…" She rested her head against the cabin panelling. "Thank you for letting me do this."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

Ex-Navy Seal commander and Senator Lucas Zeke sat across from Olivia and Tom in one of the armoured vehicles that had arrived to collect them from the airport. He was smiling - his white teeth brilliant against his ebony skin, his eye patch rakishly attractive - as he spoke to Olivia about Fitz.

"Yeah, Fitz and I used to shoot hoops back in the day. He beat my ass once or twice. Not bad for a white flyboy - you can tell him I said that. And that I've been waiting a helluva long time for that invite to play b-ball game at the White House. And you can tell him I ain't about to go easy on him, just because he's Commander-in-Chief!"

Olivia chuckled. "I'll tell him."

"Oh, I see why Fitzgerald Grant wants to keep you on a short leash, Ms Pope. Even with my one good eye, I can see you're a fine-looking woman." Hearing Tom clear his throat, the Senator gave a hearty chuckle. "No, need to get all worked up about that, son. I'm just stating facts. Though I gotta say I would never have imagined Fitz with a sister."

'Why?" Olivia asked, her curiosity overcoming her caution.

"His old man wrote the rulebook on how Fitz had to live his life; laid down the law right down to the woman Fitz had to marry - she had to be 'presentable' if you get what I'm saying. And Fitz got tired of fighting back." The Senator was quiet for a moment, then he turned with his grin firmly in place. "But it sure is good to see my man step out of the shadows and be his own boss. That's the guy I knew on active duty; the guy who did the right thing, even if it wasn't the exactly lawful at the time."

"Sounds like there's a story there."

"There sure is but if I tell you, I'd have to marry you – you know because a wife can't testify against her husband. I don't have a problem with that, I kind of like the idea of waking up to your gorgeousness every morning but," And he grinned as Tom glared at him, "Yeah, I'm thinking if this agent here doesn't shoot me, Fitz surely will. You still wanna hear the story?"

Olivia shook her head, warming to the Senator, unfazed by his flirting, but they needed to talk business. "Senator Zeke, about Judge Liston—"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about Judge Liston. I've got my best men guarding her like she's been dipped in gold and rolled in diamonds. Ain't nobody going to get past my men. Now I heard your crew talking about a plan to take down that bastard Dent."

"We hear he has very kinky habits after hours."

The Senator chuckled. "That's one way of putting it. He's one sick, c*cksucker, and that's telling it straight if you get my meaning. You want to take him down, I'll be glad to help – he's a mean son of b*tch!"

"We don't have a lot of time, Senator. The hearing is tomorrow morning"

"Oh we'll be fine. I hear the party starts at his place around seven most nights, after his missus takes their two girls to dance or singing or whatever hell class these folk inflict on them kids," The Senator shook his head, then looked at Olivia with an incisive gaze. "Was I right in thinking I heard your people mention the word 'surveillance'?"

"Yes. We want to get him on tape."

"Well if you've got the equipment, I can help get you inside his house. We'll just cut the lights and send your team in to fix up the place."

* * *

"I gotta say, I liked wearing the Georgia Power uniform to dancing around in tight leather pants," Harrison muttered as they sat waiting in the Senator's study, facing a big screen TV to which Huck's laptop was connected.

"Yes, the fake power company badge and fake utility truck were a nice touch," Huck grinned.

"Hey, those were the real deal," the Senator said, "'Coz, I know people who know people. But hold on, let's get back to the tight leather pants," Senator Zeke looked Harrison up and down. "I didn't know that was Plan A. Sure sounds more entertaining than Plan B."

"I know, right?" Quinn said.

"There's the wife and kids leaving," Abby said, looking at the multi-view boxes on the screen. "I can't believe the man just let you walk into his house and fit these cameras everywhere."

"We told him we were checking for dim or flickering lights after the power outage," Huck said.

"Yeah, we didn't want him to get electrocuted," Harrison grinned, as they watched the federal prosecutor go around the house drawing closed all the curtains.

"A bowl of popcorn would be good right about now," Olivia sighed.

"You want popcorn? We got popcorn," The Senator's assistant, Oscar, spoke up from the back. "Yeah, what kind of toppings you want? Caramel? Cheese and chilli? Cinnamon spice? Kettle? Wasabi?"

"I'll take Kettle," said Tom.

"Wasabi," said another agent.

Twenty minutes later they were all seated with bowls of popcorn coated with their toppings of choice, waiting for the fun to begin.

"He's going to the bedroom," Quinn sat forward. "Quick, zoom in."

Huck clicked on the bedroom view, enlarging it on the screen.

"Ok, showtime…" Harrison grinned taking in a mouthful of popcorn, then nearly spat them all out as the man on screen stripped naked.

"That's disgusting," Quinn said, munching quickly, staring with her eyes wide open.

"Is that…is he putting on a thong?" Abby asked looked from the corner of her eye with a thoroughly disgusted expression.

"You have a problem with the thong, but not the French maid's uniform?" Harrison frowned.

Just then, Olivia's phone pinged and she looked at the text message, smiling when she saw the sender's ID. "Uh, excuse me, I need to take this."

She existed amid a flurry of vague and distracted 'okay', 'uh-huh', 'sure', 'yep' by people whose eyes were glued to the screen. All except for Tom, who followed her out.

"Oh, you can stay and watch, Tom."

"I'd rather not, ma'am."

* * *

Olivia raced up the curving wooden staircase to the second floor guest bedroom that she had to herself. The others, including Tom and the agents had been forced to share.

As she quickly grasped the door handle, Tom stopped her. He went in to inspect the room once again, before letting her enter; then told her he'd be waiting outside as he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Feeling a sudden rush of deep longing, Olivia kicked off her shoes and curled up on the bed, as she speed-dialled.

"Are you naked?" she asked when Fitz answered the phone.

He laughed, then lowered his voice to a sexy rumble. "No, are you?"

"Nope," she sighed, closing her eyes, dragging a pillow towards her. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too. More than you can imagine," he said in a low sexy voice that send shivers over her skin, making her melt and hug the pillow tighter. They were quiet for a long, long moment, then he asked softly, "What were you doing when I sent you the text?"

"We were watching the Patrick Dent peep-show. I think I need to get Senator Zeke on my team, he is a very resourceful guy."

"Yep. He's the guy you want to have around when you're life is on the line."

"So what's the story with the two of you? He wouldn't tell me. Said he'd have to marry me if he did - spousal privilege."

"Zeke said he'd have to marry you?" Fitz chuckled.

"See, I knew it!"

"What?"

"He's gay."

"Wow," Fitz sounded surprised. "How do you know?"

"Oscar knows where the popcorn is."

Fitz laughed. "That's it? Oscar is his assistant, probably has personal shopper duties on the side."

"Am I wrong?"

Fitz didn't respond immediately, when he did it was after a long sigh. "No, you're not, but this has to be our secret."

"So did you and he ever…?"

"What? No! Oscar and Zeke have been together for nearly thirty years. Zeke was Oscar's commanding officer." Then Fitz asked with a smile in his voice, "Liv, you have doubts about my sexuality?"

"I'm just wondering if you… experimented?"

"No, I'm not Zeke's type. And my type, my one and only type, is a very beautiful, brilliant, sassy woman who's having some really kinky thoughts right now."

"I'm horny," she admitted, prompting a husky laugh from him.

"Have you unpacked?"

"Not yet. Why?"

"Check your bag. I put something in there for you."

Olivia scrambled off the bed and quickly knelt on the floor to open her suitcase. She dug through her clothes until she touched a large gift-wrapped box at the bottom of the case.

"Wow, it's a big box."

"Open it."

Tearing the wrapping, she chuckled seeing an enlarged publicity shot of Fitz. Underneath the photograph was a sex toy kit, which made her howl with laughter, instantly getting a reaction. From Tom.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" he said, bursting into the room.

"Yes!" Olivia gasped, thrusting the box behind her back.

Tom narrowed his gaze, flicking it from her face to the package barely concealed behind her, before saying blandly, "I'll be outside."

"Thank you, Tom."

After the door had closed behind him, Olivia hissed in a delighted whisper, "You got me a vibrator?"

"Not '_a'_ vibrator," Fitz hissed back. "That's a deluxe multi-pack, top of the range."

Olivia doubled up laughing, all the while trying to do it quietly.

"Hey, quit laughing. Do you know how impossible it is for the President of the United States to get a vibrator on same day delivery? I had to pretend to be Morris. Had it delivered to his house, then he had to smuggle it in his pitbull's doggy basket so the Secret Service wouldn't check it out."

"Oh gawd, Morris knows!" Olivia gasped between giggles.

"Hey, I'm the one he winked at when he handed over the package."

Olivia stuffed a sweater into her mouth to stop herself from screaming with laughter, but couldn't stop the tears running down her face.

"Livvie… Liv… Olivia… Hey…!"

Olivia sat up, pushing the sweater away and wiping the tears from her face. "I love you, Fitzgerald Grant the Third. I love you so much, I'm going to kiss your Mona Lisa smile face." She smacked a loud kiss on the photograph.

"I love you too, baby." He made a kissy noise over the phone, adding cheekily, "You want to try them out? I put battery packs in there too."

"You want me to try them out, with you on the phone?"

He gave a soft grunt that sent her off on another round of giggles.

"I'll join you," he whispered, "With my deluxe hand-job."

She snuffled a laugh, feeling aroused, cherished, happy and sad all at once, staring at his photograph as he rumbled a sigh in her ear.

"Let's do it," she whispered, then gasped, shoving the box quickly back into her suitcase, when Tom knocked on the door, calling out, "Ma'am. You're needed downstairs. There's an emergency."

"Fitz..." she groaned.

"I heard, baby. Call me when you know what's going on."

* * *

As Olivia hurried downstairs with Tom following at her heels, they were met on the landing by a worried-looking Senator Zeke.

"Ms Pope, I just got word from my men that Judge Liston's 11-year-old grand-daughter is missing. And from what we heard on the surveillance audio, it looks like Patrick Dent is involved."

* * *

**A/N:So I thought I'd introduce a Navy buddy as different as I could make him from Joke with no possibility of a ridiculous triangular (non) relationship. Hence, Zeke. And I'm being fast and loose with convention (as in ignoring it entirely) by deciding that a state Senator in Georgia could keep his sexual orientation a secret, without the cover of a wife.  
**

**Other liberties! So I made up a Federal Judge relative for real-life heroine Antoinette Tuff because I really wanted to mention this brave woman's incredible actions in this story. **

**Other than what she actually did talking to that gunman after he took her hostage, everything else is not true. There is no Claudette Liston in real life (at least I hope not)! You can read about Ms Tuff on****_: Antoinette Tuff: Meet the Woman Who Prevented a Mass School Shooting Yesterday_**** by Rachel George published in PolicyMic on Aug 21, 2013 and ****_The heroism of Antoinette Tuff reveals what's missing from politics_**** by Gary Younge in The Guardian on Aug 26, 2013**

**Also I'm using Scandal Pace for events happening at the speed of light, instead of the speed of reality, and I got the idea of a power masquerade after reading this story : ****_Brookhaven authorities warn of fake Georgia Power worker_**** - By Doug Evans, FOX 5 reporter, on Foxatlanta on Jan 18, 2014**

**Also in the telling of this story I may put Fitz and Co. through a zillion ethics violations through sheer ignorance, rather than intent! And I don't think that executive orders are signed with such stealth or drama...?!  
**

**BTW, I'm really touched that some of these social issue plot-lines resonate with you. Thank you for letting me know. And thank you to DayDreamLover for the shoutout in her story: _Up Close and Personal._ :))))))**


	16. Pawns in the Game

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"That's where we got coitus interruptus," Quinn said, as Huck rewound the recording.

When Huck hit play, they all heard a heaving, groaning, swearing Dent telling the man giving his backside a workout in more ways than one, to stop as a phone started to ring.

"I gotta get this," Dent gasped, reaching for his cell phone on the night-table.

"Now?" His partner sounded offended. "I'm nearly done."

"It's important. Work."

"Fine!" The man slapped Dent's rump one last time and pulled out. "You want me to hang around?"

"Nah, we'll have an extra-long session tomorrow. I want to get my money's worth."

"You always do, hun." The man grinned cheekily. "Give my regards to the wife-!"

The man barely had time to finish his sentence before he was sent flying across the room, to crash into the wall. He looked visibly shocked as he sat up, clutching his face.

"You leave my wife out of this!" Dent ground out, coming to stand over the fallen man, his fist raised.

"Hey, cool it, man! It was just a joke!"

Dent drew his arm back, but paused when the other man said, "Shouldn't you answer your phone, it hasn't stopped ringing."

Dent dropped his arm, but not the scowl on his face. "If word gets out about any of this, you're dead! I mean that! Now get the hell out of my house."

Hearing that last part of the recording, Senator Zeke gritted his teeth, "Nasty assed bastard."

They watched as the man on the floor quickly got to his feet and rushed out the door. Then Dent walked back to the bed and sat down. He took a deep breath, let it out and finally answered his phone.

"Yeah, I know. I was in the middle of something. Everything go to plan? Call the bitch at midnight, and every couple of hours after that; make sure she doesn't get any sleep... Yeah, make the kid scream… heck, I don't know, slap her, punch her. Figure it out. Call me if there's a problem. And make sure the kid's tied up. Because I don't want her running away if there's another brown out... Right, yeah, forgot about that, you guys don't have power over there. How are the camp lights working? Yeah, good. I had a couple of Georgia Power techies checking on faults at my place. No, I didn't take down their badge numbers, Jeeze, don't get so paranoid. Look I gotta go, my wife and kids will be home soon, and I, uh, have to finish up some things before they get here."

Huck stopped the recording. "We need that phone."

Oscar looked at Zeke. "It's time for Plan C."

* * *

"These guys are good," Harrison murmured, watching barely detectable shadows move through the shrubbery.

"Professionals; military training," Huck muttered, as he and Harrison waited in an unmarked van, parked across the street from Patrick Dent's house. There was a second van waiting in a back street, with its lights turned off but its engine running.

Harrison's response was interrupted by a voice announcing over the radio transmitter, "We're going in, sir."

Then they heard Zeke respond, "The target is unarmed, in the shower. North East corner of the house. Entry through the bedroom."

Back at his stately home, Zeke, Olivia and Tom were in a bunker beneath Zeke's garage. The cavernous space was set up to be an operations centre and Zeke was watching a cinema-sized flat screen showing the interior of Dent's home, while Olivia paced the floor, her arms folded across her chest.

In the background, Tom stood against a wall, studying the bunker with an impassive interest. Then his attention shifted to the screen where a dark figure had just entered the Dent bedroom, followed by a handful of others. The new arrivals were all dressed in black, wearing masks and carrying guns.

Two of the men rushed into the en suite and minutes later came out dragging an unconscious, naked Dent between them. The others quickly threw a blanket over the naked man, bundling him up and carrying him out.

"Don't forget the phone," Zeke said into his mouthpiece.

A masked figure re-entered the bedroom, picked up the phone on the night-table and cleared out.

"Wow. That was fast," Olivia said in awe.

Zeke grinned, getting to his feet. "Now, the real fun begins."

* * *

As the black van carrying Dent drove past their parked vehicle, Harrison read out the number of the last incoming call on Dent's cell phone.

Huck typed it into his laptop, then said grimly, "The location is showing up as south downtown. Intersection of Forsyth and Alabama streets, but it looks like a built-up area."

"In other words, we'll take forever to find this kid," Harrison muttered.

"I think I know where we need to start looking." Oscar turned to the men in masks. "You guys agree?"

"The old Atlanta Constitutional Building," one of the men said. "It's been vacant for over 40 years."

Another man shook his head. "But there's always people around; kids with spray cans, vagrants, junkies, you name it."

"The fire last March caused a lot of damage and it was in pretty bad shape to start with."

Huck and Harrison looked at each other. "Let's check it out. The name is too much of a coincidence."

Oscar nodded, moving up into the driver's seat, while Harrison put a call through on his cell phone. "We're heading downtown. Sure you're okay waiting out here on your own?"

"Yep," Abby responded. "We're dealing with a mother and her kids."

"Armed militia might give them nightmares," Quinn agreed.

* * *

A short while later, a silver Toyota Camry pulled into the driveway, and a lady in leggings and a duffle coat, hopped out of the car followed by two little girls with their tutus showing under their parkas.

"Okay, that's them. Let's go." Abby and Quinn quickly exited the rental vehicle and walked up to the house.

"Mrs Dent?" Quinn asked with a cheerful smile.

"Yes. Do I know you?" Mrs Dent looked over quizzically, drawing the two girls close to her.

"No, Ma'am. But we're here to talk about your husband's case," Abby said, affecting a thick southern accent, which had Quinn looking at her strangely.

"His case tomorrow with the black judge?"

There was a moment of silence, then Abby said brightly, "Yes, ma'am. There's been, uh, a new development."

"Oh, Pat's not going to like that. He's been trying to get the better of that judge for years. You better come inside and speak to him."

Mrs Dent opened the front door, ushering her daughters inside, calling out for her husband. When she didn't get a response, she said, "That's strange. He didn't say he was going out. Did he, girls?"

The two little girls shook their heads in unison.

Mrs Dent scrolled through her phone, then sighed. "Look, I'm sure he'll be back soon. But if you don't want to wait, I'll give him your message, and he can contact you after he gets back."

Quinn took a CD case out of her shoulder bag. "This has all the information." She smiled brightly at Mrs Dent. "I'd recommend that you have a look through it before your husband gets home, but not with your kids. It's not PG-rated."

Mrs Dent's eyes widened. "You've got a sex tape on the Judge?"

"Just have a look, it will surprise you," Abby said, taking hold of Quinn's arm. "We should get going. We'll see ourselves out."

"And we'll be in touch," Quinn said, waving and smiling at the kids as they departed.

* * *

Dent woke up to find himself still naked, tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground. He looked around the stark concrete cell, lit by a bright fluorescent tube, with its only exit barred by a metal door.

"Ah, Mr Dent, you're awake," a distorted, tinny voice came over a sound system. "How are you feeling?"

Dent jerked his head, trying to find out where the sound was coming from. After a fruitless search, he yanked at the ropes tying him to the chair.

"Cat got your tongue, Dent? You're not usually this quiet in court. And I wouldn't bother trying to get free. Those knots will only get tighter the more you struggle."

That prompted an explosive, "_Who the fuck are you people?! And where the hell am I?!"_

"Mr Dent, you are in a safe place and we just want to ask you a few questions. About the little girl you kidnapped."

Instantly Dent stopped struggling. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Your face tells me you're lying, Dent."

"I didn't kidnap any little girl!"

"No, but you know who did. And we want names, Mr Dent."

"I ain't giving you no names. I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"I see this is going to be a very long night, Mr Dent. And a very uncomfortable one for you."

* * *

There were a couple of men in police uniforms standing by the entrance to the derelict five-story building,

"The police are in on this?" Harrison raised a brow.

"Or they could be men in police uniforms to keep the vandals and junkies away," Oscar said noncommittally, looking at the looming building shrouded in darkness. "A couple of those floors have boarded windows… And it looks like there's a chink of light coming from that window on the third floor?"

"Could be," One of the men, squinted.

Another man looked through the night-vision scope on his rifle and grunted. "Yep, that's a light all right."

Oscar looked at each individual in the vehicle. "Okay, so here's the plan…"

* * *

"Anything?"

"No," Olivia sighed into the phone. "Dent isn't saying much, other than a lot of cursing. But we may have a lead. My guys and Zeke's team are on to it."

"And you're staying safe?"

"Yes, and Tom hasn't left my side." Olivia glanced over her shoulder to where Tom was hovering at a discreet distance. Beyond him were a couple of Zeke's men, in addition to Quinn and Abby.

Dent was in a single concrete cell at the far end of the chamber, and everyone was watching him on a bank of monitors, with Zeke talking to him via a modified, synoptic microphone. There was another microphone in front of the empty chair, she had just vacated.

"I don't like how this is working out," Fitz muttered in Olivia's ear. "I'm making arrangements to fly over. I should be there in a few hours."

Olivia moved further out of earshot, and hissed, "No, Fitz, you can't be here. And I'm not just talking about leaving the kids alone this time."

"Livvie, this is not a negotiation."

"Fitz, if the verdict goes against us, it would look bad for you; coming down here to get a slap in the face. The Gun Lobby would love it, but your pollsters won't.

"And if the verdict does go our way, we don't want people saying your presence influenced the judge," Olivia paused, "Zeke and I will be there in the public gallery tomorrow morning whatever happens tonight. I'll keep you updated on what's going on. Minute by minute."

"Be safe."

"I will. You know, I will. "

* * *

Harrison staggered up to the two police officers guarding the entrance of Atlanta Constitutional, carrying Oscar slumped over his shoulder. "Help!" he gasped. "You gotta help me! I've been mugged. They stole my car, and my friend's hurt."

"Call the police," One of the men said, not budging an inch.

"Ain't you the police?"

The uniforms looked at each other. Then one of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it at Harrison. "Get out of here! Go on, git! Or I'll shoot you in the face!"

"Whoa!" Harrison took a step back. "Look man, I'm not here to create trouble. I don't have my car, my friend's hurt and we need help. Can I put him down? I just need to put him down. And maybe one of you guys knows CPR? It's part of your training, right?"

Again the men looked at each other, then the one holding the weapon came forward. "Listen, shitface! I can shoot you both dead right now and problem solved!"

In the background, black shadows crept up behind the other uniformed man, coshed him on the head and silently dragged him away.

Harrison frowned at the man holding the gun. "Hey, man. This is police brutality. When I get outta here, you can be sure that I'll be filing a complaint."

"You do that, asshole! We're from the Seventh Precinct of Hell! Make sure you get our badge numbers 666!" The man laughed, raising his gun.

"Now!" The prone Oscar suddenly launched himself at Harrison, pushing him out of the way just as a bullet hit the ground.

The move surprised the shooter, long enough for his weapon to be kicked out of his hand and for him to be knocked unconscious to the ground.

"Okay," said Oscar, helping Harrison to his feet. "These guys aren't cops. They didn't radio for help."

"There's a prison tattoo on this one's arm," said another of his team, in the process of tying the unconscious man up, after removing his weapon and searching to make sure there weren't any more.

"That tells us who we're dealing with - Dent's pack of losers."

* * *

Huck had no problem keeping up with the men who'd opted to climb the side of the building and in through a broken window.

He followed the men, making their way carefully over the refuse scattered concrete floor; their figures blending into the darkness of spray-painted walls; feeling their way down the junk strewn concrete steps that smelt of urine and decay.

They heard voices raised in agitation echoing around the empty rooms and corridors, as they got closer to the third floor edging towards the glow of light coming from one of the doorways.

"Why the fuck isn't he answering his damn phone?! Dent, you fuck, answer the damn phone!"

"Calm down! The burger bag is working, she's breathing normal."

"She may be breathing but she ain't opened her eyes! And I'm not going down for murder if this kid dies!"

"Dent has got our back. We have nothing to worry about, he said so."

"You trust that asshole?! He'd have us on Death Row in a heartbeat. Fuck! That's it. I'm outta here!"

There was a ping, and a sudden crash.

"Jeez, man, why'd you shoot him?"

"No loose ends, those were Dent's orders. The same goes for the kid. She saw my face. And I ain't taking a chance on Dent saving my ass. Three strikes and they throw away the key."

"You tell Dent about this?"

"I'm gonna make it look an accident, after the verdict is in."

"And what do we do with Vic?'

"Drag him into that corner. Take off his suit, leave the pants, and cover him with trash. When they find him, he'll look like any other junkie - not pretty, after the rats get to him."

"What about the kid? You gonna leave her here too?"

"Nah, she goes in the Dumpster; when the time's right."

There were sounds of dragging. Then conversation came to an abrupt halt when one of Zeke's men picked up a soda can and sent it clattering down the concrete steps.

"Looks like those pesky kids have come back. I'll take care of them."

"Don't forget the hood."

"Oh, yeah."

The waiting men pressed against the wall as a short, hooded figure dressed in white, strode out of the room.

He'd barely gone a couple of steps into the shadows before his body crumpled to the ground without a sound.

* * *

"That didn't take long," The bald man with a tattoo on his neck said in surprise as the white hooded figure returned; his face was lit by the light from several portable camping lanterns placed around the room. "How did you scare them off? I didn't hear anything."

His only response he got was a tranquiliser dart that felt like a pinprick as it embedded in his neck. Then as his body fell to the ground, his attacker pulled off his hood and hurried towards the little girl tied up and semi-conscious on a filthy, stinking mattress.

Huck picked up the little girl, saying in an urgent voice, "She's alive, but she needs a doctor."

As the child was rushed out the room, a team member called Zeke.

"Inform the Judge's security detail, sir, we've got her. Have the parents meet us in Emergency at Grady Memorial."

* * *

"Mr Dent, you'll be pleased to know that we have no choice but to let you go."

Dent immediately stopped struggling, and looked at the metal door suspiciously. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked in a voice that was hoarse with cursing.

"No, Mr Dent, we're releasing you."

"You're letting me go? Free? What about the kid?"

"The Judge has received an assurance that the child will be unharmed if she finds in favour of the plaintiff's motion. The judge intends to do the right thing for the safety of that child."

"Huh… So you're letting me go?"

"Yes, Mr Dent, we are letting you go. We understand you've got a big day tomorrow in court. You'll need to get some rest. "

Dent sat up. "I need clothes."

* * *

An hour later, Dent walked up to his front door, dressed in a Klansman outfit that smelt of stale cigarette smoke and beer.

He pressed the doorbell. No one answered. He yelled out his wife's name. She didn't respond. He was about to go around back, when he noticed that the front door was not shut tight. Concerned, he pushed it open and rushed in; finding the house neat, tidy and empty.

He made his way back to the kitchen, noticing something he had missed the first time he'd rushed through – a raw chicken on the counter, with a knife stabbed in its back, and a note stuck to the knife handle which said, 'You SICK bastard - You'll be hearing from my lawyers in the morning - Don't even THINK of getting custody of MY children'

* * *

Dawn was breaking when a tired and weary group of men filed out of a van parked in Zeke's garage, and made their way down to the operation centre.

They lined up in a row, taking off their masks, revealing faces that were African, Anglo, Latino and Asian.

"Olivia," said Zeke, leading her towards the group with the intention of introducing each and every one of the men by their name and military rank. "I'd like you to meet my Rainbow Justice volunteers."

* * *

**A/N: And progressing towards my usual tall tales and unbelievable situations – heh, heh (they're a lot of fun to write!). We have the Rainbow Justice crew. A nod to the Winter Olympics in non-Rainbow Russia.  
**

**I also have to say that I couldn't pass up the chance to include the Atlanta Constitution Building (named after a newspaper, and not known as anything else, even after Georgia Power company occupied it according to Wikipedia). I saw the interior of the building thanks to a couple of derelict building hunters (calling themselves 'Decay is Heading Your Way') on Youtube.**

**Also had to Google the name of the nearest hospital – is this accurate? And what are the traffic conditions like? I have no idea!**

**And I know that a lot of crimes in stories are done by masterminds, but I thought I'd focus on the non-masterminds. **


	17. Judgement Day

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Breaking News from XYZ newsdesk in Atlanta, Georgia…

_"Ms Olivia Pope, the fiancée of President Fitzgerald Grant made a surprise appearance in court today, in the company of State Senator Lucas Zeke. It has been reported that Ms Pope is staying as a personal guest at the Senator's residence. Many of our regular viewers will know that Senator Zeke has been a key proponent of tighter gun control legislation for convicted criminals. But his initiatives have few supporters. There is speculation that Ms Pope's public appearance with Senator Zeke is a signal that the senator intends to pursue higher office in the coming months. Over to you, Sam."_

_"Thank you, Lacey, but it's not just convicted criminals that the Senator has been targeting. Isn't he also trying to have licenses revoked if a person is known to be involved with a hate group?"_

_"Yes, Senator Zeke has made no secret of the fact that he's against what he calls the stock-piling of deadly weapons by people who see hate as their calling. His detractors say that kind of legislation would lead to a witch hunt, and there are fears that people will be discriminated from owning guns on the mere suspicion of belonging to a hate group, when all they may have done is yell a racial slur in the heat of the moment. Sam…"_

_"Yes, a very concerning prospect indeed. Thank you, Lacey. Now to other news…. _

Fitz switched off the television. Then adjusted his tie, picked up his jacket, and headed for the door. Opening it, just as Rowan Pope was preparing to knock.

For a moment, both men stood frozen in place, then Fitz offered a cautious smile. "Mr Pope. Settled in okay?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr Grant. And under the circumstances, I would think it's advisable that we drop the formalities. You can call me Rowan."

Fitz bit back a smile at the implied honour and extended his hand, "Pleased to meet you, Rowan. I'm Fitz."

Rowan raised a brow looking from Fitz to his hand, then back again. "Ah, I see where your son gets his deviant attitude. Where are the children? Are they in Georgia with my daughter who is doing her best to avoid me?"

Fitz dropped his hand. "Olivia is working, unofficially, on a matter of national interest. The timing wasn't great but it's important. And I trust her to get the job done quickly and safely. I want it to be over soon too, because I miss her."

Rowan's stony expression softened as he fell into step beside Fitz, walking along the central hallway on the second floor of the residence.

Seeing the expression, Fitz proffered an olive branch. "But I'm sure she regrets not being here."

"Oh, I'm sure she does not," Rowan said pleasantly.

"How is Felicia?"

"Unpacking. I see you have acquired quite a menagerie since the last time we were here."

"Yes, the kids have always wanted a dog."

"So you gave them four. Yes, I can see the logic in that. Of course, I would never let one of those flea-ridden mutts inside my house. No matter how well Olivia pleaded her case to have a pet, and let me tell you, she was very good at presenting her arguments."

Fitz tried to ignore the twinge of dislike that surfaced. "Olivia is a very loving woman. I would imagine that even as a child, she would have wanted a pet to lavish affection, and receive it in return."

"I knew it would be a harsh world out there for my child. I could not allow a smelly furball to distract my daughter from the realities she would face. Her mother had a difficult enough time as it was."

"Rowan, I'm not about teaching the people I love about harsh realities, they'll learn about them soon enough. I want them to be happy. I hope you can tolerate that, even if you can't bring yourself to understand it."

They walked several steps in total silence, then Rowan said, "I have decided to accept your offer to stay at the White House."

"About that; Olivia was not happy that I hadn't discussed this with her first."

Unexpectedly, Rowan smiled. "But now you have, it's all fine, yes? Good. So Felicia and I will stay."

"Great," Fitz said, gloomily, as they parted ways on the stair landing.

* * *

Olivia looked around the courtroom, which had started filling up after she and Zeke had taken their seats. Olivia had already allowed a reporter to approach - after Tom and a couple of other agents had tried to block access - but all the reporter had wanted was the name of the designers for her navy blue peplum jacket and charcoal pants. Olivia had given the names, and smilingly accepted the subsequent compliment with a graceful 'thank you'.

"Nice." Senator Zeke chuckled. "Now all you have to do is practice your queenly wave."

"Funny, funny man." Olivia smiled, glancing down the aisle to see Harrison and Abby making their way around protruding knees and feet, carrying bottled water from the vending machine. They'd just taken their seats beside her, alongside Huck and Quinn, when a hush fell over the room as the court clerk came in and asked everyone to rise.

Olivia watched Judge Claudette Liston enter, a short, plump woman with a weary expression. She knew the judge had been up most of the night, waiting for updates on her grand-daughter, who was now safe at home, being guarded by men from Zeke's team. The judge had also been informed that Senator Zeke had spoken to the hospital chief in confidence, to have the child registered as a Jane Doe for her safety.

Judge Liston looked around the courtroom, her gaze resting for the briefest of moments on Senator Zeke and Olivia before moving on. "Go ahead and be seated. My, my, I wasn't expecting such a turn-out today for this hearing. I must say it's refreshing to see y'all take such an interest in matters of law. So are we ready to begin?" Hardly waiting for a response, she added, "So we're going to decide on this petition for a preliminary injunction in the case of The Guns for Freedom Alliance v Fitzgerald Grant III. Please state your appearances for the record."

The petitioners' legal team introduced themselves, followed by US Attorney Patrick Dent for the Government, who looked sickly and disorganised in his rumpled suit and messy tie.

Judge Liston then informed the lawyers present that she had read their briefs, as well as the draft executive order presented as evidence. "Y'all don't need to repeat yourselves in court today, but for the benefit of all everyone else here, I'll summarise the arguments. The petitioners want to stop the President from signing his executive order on gun safety, as it violates their Constitutional rights under the Second Amendment. Is this correct?"

The plaintiffs' legal team assented.

"And the Government's defence is that this executive order is not legally binding and can be overturned by the next administration?"

Dent nodded, looked distracted.

"Do you have any new evidence to present?"

"No, your honour."

"No, your honour."

Olivia felt a sharp shock run down her spine. Instantly she texted Fitz. "Get ready. It's going down."

* * *

As soon as he got the text, Fitz ignored the sudden racing of his heart and made a call to Cyrus. "Get everyone ready. It's on."

"What, already? But the hearing just started. Do they even bother with the judicial process in courtrooms anymore?" Cyrus groused, then paused, "Are you sure she sent the bat signal? She could have been sitting on her phone."

"She sent a bat signal." Fitz exhaled a long breath. "Which means she's can come home earlier than planned."

* * *

Olivia sat forward as the Judge continued with a smile, "Well, I have questions that need asking before I can decide on the facts. Starting with the question of Second Amendment rights, y'all want me to focus on the words '_a well-regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed'. _The section – 'right of the people to keep and bear Arms' has been highlighted, but I'm looking at the words 'well-regulated'."

"If I may interrupt, your honour, the power to regulate has been vested in Congress under Articles I and IV of the Constitution," said one of the plaintiff's lawyers .

Judge Liston nodded. "I hear you, but the power to regulate has also been given to the President in Article II section 1 of the Constitution, them being the words 'executive power shall be vested in the President'. There's precedent for Executive Orders to be issued on that basis."

Judge Liston paused as there was muttering at the plaintiffs' table, but when no further objections were voiced, she continued, "So in consideration of the executives powers vested in the President, we come to the question of 'standing' – do the petitioners have standing to file this petition."

"They do, your honour, they feel they will be adversely affected directly and indirectly by the passing of this statute."

"Have any of the members of the Guns for Freedom Alliance been convicted of a crime?"

"Of course not, your honour!" The plaintiff's lead attorney appeared outraged.

"Are they undergoing psychiatric treatment?"

"No, your honour," There was less outrage, but more background whispering among the attorneys.

"But they have a problem with the President's plan to increase funding for psychiatric services under Medicaid?"

"We have no objection to that, your honour. But our clients, who are federally licensed firearms dealers, object to the additional paperwork required by the proposed mental health test to be administered at the point of sale."

The judge shuffled papers. "Where's that stated on the Draft Order?"

"It's, uh, in reference to the matter of funding."

"Oh, you mean this bit here about a funding allocation to develop a psychological test. Are you telling the court that your clients have a problem with research and development in the area of mental health?"

"Um, no, your honour."

Judge Liston waited a moment before asking, "Are your clients under the age of 21 years, which is the minimum age to buy a handgun, or under the age of 18 years which is how old they need to be to buy a rifle or shotgun from a federally licensed dealer? And do they have a problem with current legislative prohibitions on gun ownership for minors?"

"No, on all those points, your honour." There was more whispering at the table. "But they feel it's not their job to police those regulations."

"Again let me take a moment to check the draft order - I can see nothing in here saying gun retailers should police regulations. What I do see is the President proposing to harmonise gun control laws current in seven states, them being California, Connecticut, Hawaii, Massachusetts. New Jersey, New York and Rhode Island. Are you telling me that your clients have never taken part in a gun show in any one of those states?"

"Uh, they have, your honour."

"And did they fail to follow the regulations required by law?"

"Uh, no, your honour."

"Then I don't see the problem. Oh, I see, did y'all get confused about the President's plan to get tough on police refusing to enforce existing gun control laws? That's a plan to get the police to do their job, not for gun retailers to do the job of the police. Why don't I give you a minute to read over that section, and you can tell me if you still get a different meaning."

"Uh, no, your honour."

"Then I rule that the plaintiffs have not met the burden of proof required within the scope of the Executive Order presented. Therefore this petition is denied and dismissed."

Heart thumping, Olivia typed: _SIGN NOW_ and hit send, for a moment there was a stunned silence in the court-room. Then the plaintiffs' lawyers turned as one, and glared at Patrick Dent who appeared to be shrinking in his seat as cheers and jeers broke out in the crowd.

* * *

Breaking News from XYZ White House Correspondent…

"…_President Fitzgerald Grant today signed the Executive Order on Gun Safety after a shock dismissal of a stop order by a Federal Judge in Georgia. Gun control groups say that while the order is a step in the right direction, it has not gone far enough to address the issue of military assault weapons in the hands of civilians in peace time. Gun rights advocates, on the other hand, say the President has over-stepped the bounds of executive power under the United States Constitution…"_

Now Live from the courthouse in Georgia, where our reporter is speaking to First Fiancee Ms Olivia Pope and State Senator Lucas Zeke.

_"Ms Pope, how do you feel about the judges' ruling today?"_

_"Personally, as a civilian, I was happy to hear that the petition was dismissed."_

_"Are you also speaking as a representative of the government?"_

_"No, I am here as a woman who saw the man she loves get shot and almost die. I am here because I believe the President's Executive Order addresses some of the concerns the National Rifle Association has raised in connection to guns being in the hands of criminals and people in need of psychiatric treatment."_

_"And you don't feel that gun control legislation will restrict our Constitutional right to gun ownership?"_

_"I would say that the Federal government has passed several laws on gun control since the Second Amendment was ratified in 1791, and yet Americans own half of all guns worldwide. Federal gun control legislation has not prevented us from owning the 310 million guns we have in the US today."_

_"And how do you think the President will react to news that attorneys for The Guns for Freedom Alliance intend to file a new petition for a permanent injunction?"_

_"I cannot comment on that. Thank you."_

_"Senator Zeke, what is your involvement in this matter? Are you going to announce your bid to run for Governor?"_

_"I'm just here to support a friend. That's all. Y'all have a nice day now."_

* * *

"Why is Olivia Pope taking it upon herself to tell the nation about the actions of this Administration?" Sally Langston said frostily, intercepting Cyrus on his way out of the White House East Room, where Fitz had just finished signing the executive order and was now responding to questions from the attending media.

"Why are apples green and red, instead of orange and purple?"

"What?"

"Exactly, I had no idea what you're talking about either." Cyrus said, side-stepping her to continue walking

"Cyrus! This is an outrage! What is Ms Pope even doing in Georgia? And what is her connection to Lucas Zeke?"

"Sally, I am not Olivia's mother; I do not concern myself with the company she keeps. As to what she's doing in the lovely state of Georgia – I would say she's giving a boost to tourism – and it's working, because they're talking about Georgia on every news channel."

"Cyrus!"

"Got to go, Sally. Duty calls." Cyrus hurried away, breathing a sigh of relief; then cursed when he turned the corner and nearly crashed into James.

"What are you doing here?" he glared, exasperated.

"Yes, lovely to see you too. Mwah, mwah," James kissed the air on either side of his husband's face, and smiled. "And take a deep breath, that's right. We don't want you to spontaneously combust, now do we?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for your witty repartee. I have work to do."

"I'm not here to repartee either. I'm here to start my new job."

"Olivia is still in Georgia." Cyrus muttered, continuing down the corridor.

"I know. She told me to pass on her regards. I'm starting my new job as communications strategist. You know the one you ranted over for a solid 24 hours and then ungraciously accepted that I wasn't going to turn down the job offer."

"Oh, yes, that. But I thought you were going to inflict your presence in an official capacity, after the wedding."

"I was, but Olivia wants me to organise a series of web chats for Fitz. He'll be responding to questions from the public about his Executive Order on Gun Safety, and get a chance to give a broader perspective outside the usual media sound bites."

"Why wasn't I informed about any of this?" Cyrus glowered.

"I don't know. But we can have fun with the conspiracy theories during dinner tonight. Gracious, is that the time? Got to run. I have a very _busy_ schedule today. Oh, and if you want to say 'hi' to Ella, she's with Teddy in the nursery."

* * *

"I'm going to miss you," Zeke muttered as he gave Olivia a long hug. "And you know I don't say that to a lot of women."

Olivia laughed. "I'm honoured, and I'm going to miss you too."

"We make a good team, don't we?"

"Yes, we do."

"And you know that if you ever need my help, you just have to call me._ I'll be there_!" Zeke sang.

Again Olivia laughed, then she angled her head. "Are you and Oscar free to fly to DC on Valentine's Day?"

* * *

"Mm, this peach jam is delish. I might make a crumb cake with this as a filling." Abby dipped her finger in the jam bottle and scooped up another dollop to taste.

"I'm loving this salty pecan brittle," Quinn broke off a piece and savoured the taste. "Wish I'd got some for the Dent kids. I feel so bad for them."

"Oscar said the wife has found herself a good lawyer. A real shark."

"Good, I hope he takes a huge bite out of Dent's big, hairy ass."

"Ewww! Could you not talk about that?"

At the conference table, Harrison and Huck were peering into a laptop, replaying the recordings of the previous night. "So how much do you think it cost to set up that operations centre in Zeke's bunker?" Harrison asked Huck.

"A lot. The equipment was state-of-the-art; he must have friends at the top."

"Yeah, the President."

"No, higher than that. People with money, who don't have to answer to Congress or the public."

"Man, sometimes I forget who really runs this country."

Nor far from them, Olivia sat curled up in a leather chair, gazing out the window, absently rubbing her engagement ring. The flight was taking too long. She missed him. She missed them. She missed her family. The thought made her smile.

_Her_ family...

She glanced over at her associates having their private conversations and Tom, who was dozing in his seat. The other agents were reading magazines or playing cards, while still keeping watch, unobtrusively.

Olivia turned her attention back to fluffy clouds and blue skies, feeling warm comfort settle in the pit of her belly. Then she sat up with a jolt of anticipation as her phone buzzed; and seeing the caller ID, she smiled.

"I'm almost there," she said softly

"Almost is not good enough," he grumbled.

"Mr President…" she gave a soft chuckle.

"Mmm…" he rumbled softly. "So did you try them out?"

"No!" She laughed, then whispered. "We can try them out tonight."

"Oh, I like that."

She blushed and whispered, "I can't wait."

Further down the cabin, Abby rolled her eyes. "No second guesses as to who she's talking to."

"Nope," Quinn giggled."She's fallen deeply, madly, truly."

"Isn't the movie _Truly, Madly, Deeply_?" Abby sniffed.

Quinn took another bite of candy. "You know, it was nice having her around, being the boss lady. I miss that."

"Yeah, me too," Harrison turned to look at them, murmuring, "And the undercover stuff ain't bad."

"You need more training. I can help with that," Huck said, his attention still on his laptop.

"I wonder if the President needs to sign more Executive Orders," Quinn said. "You know some really unpopular ones."

"Pretty sure he does, now that he's in love and wants to fix everything that's broken. Forgetting of course that it was mostly the Republicans that broke it," Abby muttered, closing the jam jar.

Quinn and Harrison exchanged a glance, then Quinn extended her box of candy to Harrison, "Brittle?"

"Salty, too."

Abby frowned at them suspiciously, but they just avoided her gaze and munched away.

* * *

When they landed at Andrews Air Force Base in Washington DC, the pilot asked them to remain seated until they received clearance to disembark.

"I could get used to travelling this way," Quinn sighed, settling back into the soft leather of her seat.

"Lots of elbow space," Harrison agreed.

"And meals on a plate," Abby added.

"And vegetarian that's not chicken," Huck nodded.

Just then Olivia felt a flutter along her spine as conversation came to an abrupt halt. Anticipation singing through her, she looked over her shoulder to see Fitz enter the cabin, his gaze searching and settling on her.

"Hi."

Other than an inarticulate gasp of joy, she didn't respond as she leapt out of her chair and launched herself into his arms.

He grabbed her to him, lifting her off her feet, burying his face in her neck.

"So does this mean we can leave now?" Abby asked drily.

Olivia snuffled a laugh as Fitz groaned softly, kissing her ear and her cheek before carefully setting her down, while keeping her snug against his side.

"Abby," Fitz smiled, extending his free hand. "Nice to see you again."

Abby twitched a smile, and shook hands gingerly. Then watched as Fitz extended the same courtesy to the other associates. "I'd like to thank you all for helping us out in Georgia. We'd never have managed to rescue that little girl without your help."

"Yeah, well, you know - all in a day's work," Quinn grinned.

"It was good to have Liv with us, being hands on," Harrison said.

"Yeah, we're available if there's anything else you need us to take care of," Huck added.

"I'll keep that in mind," Fitz chuckled, turning to give Olivia a lingering kiss on the lips.

"Okay, that's our cue to get out of here," Abby said, giving Olivia an awkward hug while trying to avoid touching any part of Fitz.

"It's because you're a Republican," Olivia explained after the associates had left.

"But I'm a good guy, just tell her to ask these guys if she doesn't believe me," Fitz teased, referring to the agents going past on their way out, including Tom who received a special slap on the back.

Once the last agent left, a small silence descended in the cabin as Fitz and Olivia looked at each other.

"I missed you," he said with fervor.

"I missed you too."

He cupped her face, lowering his mouth to brush a featherlight kiss across her smiling lips, then tugged playfully at her lower lip making her laugh. Instantly he deepened the kiss, taking her weight in his arms as she stood on tiptoe, straining towards him.

"Livvie…" he groaned hoarsely, pressing his forehead against hers when they broke apart. Drawing back, he stroked her cheek with his thumb, "There's something I need to tell you."

"Me too."

"You go first."

"I invited Zeke and Oscar to the wedding."

"Your dad's here. And he's staying at the White House."

There was a silence, then he said softly, "Say something."

"Are you upset about my news?"

"No," he shook his head. "Are you upset about mine?"

"Yes."

"Can I still get a kiss?"

In answer, Olivia pressed her mouth to his fiercely, then kissed a trail along his jaw before burying her face in his shoulder. "Why does he have to stay with us?"

"I think he's trying to get closer to you," he murmured, rubbing her back. "They're on the third floor. And I'll ask him to give me an itinerary of his and Felicia's movements so you can avoid them at all times."

She snuffled a laugh, lifting her head to look at him.

He leaned down and kissed her nose. "We should go. The guys must be getting impatient for us to leave."

They made their way out, arm-in-arm. At the bottom of the steps, Fitz shook hands with the agents waiting, and saluted the military personnel on guard before gently guiding Olivia to the Presidential limousine.

He kissed her once more before opening the passenger door. Then grinned at her squeal of delight, which was followed by shrieks from the two kids inside. As Olivia disappeared in a flurry of hugs and kisses, he followed, resigning himself to taking the seat opposite, while Jerry and Karen sandwiched Olivia, peppering her with questions about her adventures in Georgia.

* * *

Breaking News from XYZ news desk in Georgia…

_"US Attorney Patrick Dent was found dead at his home this evening, with a gun shot wound to the back of his head. Atlanta Police are treating his death as a homicide after the shock discovery that the victim had been stripped naked and tied to a chair. He was reportedly alone at the time of the incident, after Mrs Dent and the children moved out of the family home in the early hours of this morning. Mrs Dent was not available for comment. Our sources say that police arrived at the house to arrest Mr Dent on charges of kidnapping and obstruction of justice. Mr Dent was Federal Prosecutor in the hearing to prevent the President signing an Executive Order on Gun Safety, which concluded earlier today with a dismissal. It is unclear at this stage if there is a link. Police have no known suspects for Mr Dent's murder at this time, but say they have in custody four associates of Mr Dent's who are helping with the official investigation..." _

* * *

**A/N: Thank YOU again for your lovely, encouraging, informative comments. I LOVE them! **

**And I've also realised my author's notes have been a bit too brief! Sorry about that, my job hunt is depressing and it's affecting my sense of humour but I've resurrected it today (death warmed over) to write a super looooong note.  
**

**Anyway, I've been feeling bad about making OPA drift off like flotsam and jetsam. Hence, Olivia Pope and Associates 'fixing' undercover with the help of a secret army. And there were two articles that helped me decide on the Rainbow crew. **

**One was ****_Why It's Rare To 'See A Black Face' In The SEALs_****, a radio interview with transcript on the NPR website published May 28, 2012 - where the African American SEAL senior chief says it's not racism but a lack of awareness and swimming skills – for SEA, Air And Land – that's holding more people of colour from being recruited into elite forces. I don't know enough about the US military to disagree with him, but I can tell you as a woman of colour, who grew up 5 minutes from a Sri Lankan beach – I can't swim.**

**The second article was ****_The U.S. Could Have Its First Female Navy SEALs By 2016 _****by Josh Voorhees published in Slate on Jun 18, 2013 – meaning there currently aren't any women SEALs. (Apparently, there is a limit to the improbabilities I will include in this story – shock, horror!)**

**And I wanted to choose military personnel because the crazies are supposed to be weeded out, so the sane can be ordered to kill, while they themselves die in the process. (Oops, did I just let slip my disdain for the games big boys play with other people's lives).**

**Also felt the need to include a few healthy relationships in this story, as I'm over the dysfunctional ones in Scandal.**

**The next point to note is that in real life an injunction hearing would probably take a lot longer – I referred to (as in shamelessly pilfered) ****_Hedges v Obama_**** and the transcript was 152 pages long! If you care to read it, please do, it's very entertaining! Anyway as this is a Scandal story, best keep the action scandalously short. **

**I should mention my crass re-working of the US legal system was misappropriated by information gathered from the following articles:**

**_Hedges v Obama final hearing transcript_**** on scribd website; ****_Milestones in Federal Gun Control Legislation_**** - written by John Gettings and Catherine McNiff on Infoplease****_; Articles I, II & IV_**** were taken from Cornell Law and ****_The Reach of Congressional Power: Specific Article I and IV Powers_**** from Law2 UMKC websites; ****_Executive Orders: The Power of the President's Pen_**** by Kirs Strohman in The Legality published Dec 11, 2008 and ****_Psych tests for gun owners recommended_**** by Andrew Drummond, Oct 18, 2010 in the Sydney Morning Herald (this was a recommendation for Australia, but figured I'd use it here for the US). Did I leave anyone out – yes Wikipedia for everything from ****_Standing_**** to ****_Injunctions_**** to ****_Federal Firearms _****_legislation_****!**

**And I hope to have a few OLITZ-centric chapters coming up soon…!**

**Happy Valentines for those still enjoying February 14 in your parts of the world! Quote for every day of the year: ****_Being Deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage – Lao Tzu _**


	18. Gift Giving

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Did Dad tell you the bad news, Mom?" Jerry asked, as he munched on chocolate pecan turtles from the candy basket Olivia had brought back from Georgia. "Rowan is here."

"Yes, Fitz told me," Olivia shot a wry glance at Fitz, who gave her a cheeky grin in return.

"And did he tell you that we've become residents of Pope Prison?"

"Jerry's upset because we can't have Poppy, Rex, Daisy or Darth with us at meal times," Karen, said through a mouthful of chocolate pecan pralines, as she snuggled up to Olivia. "Rowan said smelly, mangy mutts belonged in kennels, not under the dinner table. But it's okay Dad talked to Rowan and now they can be in Jerry's room watching DOGTV when we're having dinner."

"Well, I kind of like not having my every bite watched by a bunch of drooling canines," muttered Fitz, snagging a handful of pretzel bites.

Jerry nudged Olivia's arm to gain her attention. "_And_ Rowan's signed me up to help at a soup kitchen. I asked Dad to sign an Executive Order to get him to leave me alone, but Dad's being a hard ass. So you think you can speak to Rowan, Mom?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia caught Fitz giving an imperceptible shake of his head. "Jer, is it the soup kitchen that's the problem? Would you like to help out somewhere else?"

"I don't mind the soup kitchen, but Rowan wants to be there too."

"Jerry thinks Rowan will be spying on him."

"Yeah," Jerry agreed with Karen. "If Rowan wants to do his part for the community, he should find another soup kitchen. Instead, he's following me around. It's a real bummer that he's your real dad. I was hoping we could run him out of town if he wasn't."

Fitz paused in the middle of popping a handful of glazed pecans into his mouth. "Wait, you were calling him Liv's 'fake' dad a few days ago. What changed your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Jerry."

"Okay, so I may have sent some of Mom's and Rowan's hairs off to be analysed. And I may have got the results back. And the results may have said they're 99.9% sure that Rowan is Mom's biological dad. But it's okay, Dad, I didn't pretend to be you this time. I got Pete to get the paternity kit, so no one can trace it back to the White House. And I'm paying him back from my allowance."

* * *

"Is it too late to tell the North Koreans that they can have Jerry?" Fitz muttered as Olivia straddled his lap undoing his tie.

Olivia kissed his chin. "You know, you can't keep grounding him."

"Yes, I can. This time he got Peter involved in his delinquent activities."

Olivia started on the buttons of his shirt. "Peter told his Dad about it."

"After the fact. I can't even imagine what Peter's parents must think of us."

Olivia chuckled. "Well, whatever they imagine won't be close to the real deal, like the past couple of days in Georgia."

Fitz tightened his hands on her waist. "I was so worried about you."

She stroked her fingers through his thick, silky soft curls. "Why?"

"I don't know. Something about that whole situation didn't feel right."

She cupped his face between her hands. "You were right. A child was kidnapped, but I was okay thanks to Tom, the other agents, my guys, Zeke and Zeke's team. You weren't playing when it came to my safety and I was fine."

Fitz rolled Olivia onto her back, settling himself between her legs. She smiled pushing her fingers into the curling hair at his nape, while rubbing her foot up along his muscled shin.

"I want to keep you wrapped up in cotton wool."

"Not fashion trendy." She wrinkled her nose to his soft chuckle. "And," she added huskily, "You need to chill when it comes to Jerry."

"The only way that's going to happen is if I move to the Arctic. And…" He nuzzled her nose. "The only reason you're cool, is because he was trying to get Rowan out of the White House."

"Yeah," Olivia chuckled. "I'm biased in Jer's favour because of that."

Fitz lowered his mouth to hers for a sweet, lingering kiss; sliding one arm from beneath her to begin flicking open the buttons of her jacket; issuing a soft sigh when it opened to reveal that she was bare underneath.

"If I'd known you were dressed like this, I wouldn't have brought the kids."

Pleasure swept over her in a tide as he fingers caressed her. Then he palmed her back, helping her arch towards him; a soft groan leaving them both, when his warm, wet mouth closed over her hot, pebbled skin.

Then they groaned in unison, hearing a sharp knock on the door.

"Pretend we're not here," Olivia urged, pressing her hand to the back of his head.

"Olivia, I know you're in there. This is your father," the authoritative voice called through the door.

Fitz rolled off Olivia and sat on the edge of the bed. Unfazed, Olivia shifted behind him, laying her cheek against his muscled back, sneaking her hands around him to stroke his chest.

He stopped her hands. "It's not going to work, baby. That was more effective than a bucket of cold water."

She sighed, as Fitz kissed her nose and began to do up her jacket.

* * *

"Dad." Olivia said, stepping out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"Olivia." Rowan rested his gaze on her hair that she hadn't bothered to fix. Then his gaze returned to hers blandly. "How was Georgia?"

"That's why you wanted to see me?" She said evenly, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

"Olivia, you are my daughter. I haven't seen you since Christmas. It's only natural that I would want to see you, to see how you have been keeping. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"And Georgia?"

"Georgia was okay."

Rowan smirked. "I see. " Then he brought his hands from behind his back and extended a box towards her. "I wanted you to have this. It was your mother's. And I'm sure she would have liked you to wear something of hers on your wedding day."

* * *

"What did he want?" Fitz asked when she stepped back into their bedroom.

"He wanted to give me this," she said, leaning against the door. And the way she said it - her voice tight and her words hoarse - had Fitz reaching her in two strides.

He gathered her to him with one arm while taking the box in his other hand; but stared blankly at Olivia after opening it. "They're a pair of earrings."

"Diamond drop earrings. My father gave them to my mother on their anniversary, the year I was born. She loved these earrings. I thought he'd got rid of them, like he got rid of everything else of hers. But he kept these. I didn't know he kept these. He wants me to wear them on our wedding day." The words rushed out in a torrent.

Fitz tightened his arm around her. "Do you want to?"

She nodded. Then her face crumpled and she buried her face in his chest, drenching his shirt front with her tears.

Without a word, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed. They lay down in each other's arms, with him stroking her back, placing kisses all over face, waiting for her tears to subside.

"I miss her so much. I wish she was here." She sniffed, stroking the damp patch on his shirt. "She would sing to me all the time...She had a beautiful voice...I loved hearing her sing."

He stroked back her hair. "Was there are a special song or lullaby your mother would sing to you?"

She nodded; singing the words to _All Day All Night_, hesitantly, disjointedly until he started singing with her. Then her voice faded away as she listened to him, her eyes shining like drenched onyx.

When he reached the end, she whispered, "Sing it again."

And he did, until her lashes drooped, then closed; and his husky, tender voice was the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Hollis arrived at number One Observatory Circle and was met at the door by Sally Langston.

"Well, now isn't this nice. A personal invitation to the home of the Vice President and I am met at the door by none other than the lady herself." Hollis smiled.

"We do take our southern hospitality seriously, Hollis, as you know." Sally led him through the reception hall, up the stairs, to the second floor study, where she made sure the door was closed securely before ushering him to one of the leather couches.

"And where is Daniel Douglas Langston tonight?" Hollis sat down, crossing one leg over the other and folding his arms over his chest.

"Daniel is at the club, getting acquainted with Jack Daniels."

"Well, that is a darned shamed. I was hoping he'd show me that collection of stuffed animals he keeps bragging about."

"Yes, well, Daniel has always been one for the great outdoors."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." Hollis smiled. "Now, I hear things didn't go down too well in your home state. Guess them peaches are looking less peachy now for our first female President. Chuck and Doug will be mighty disappointed."

Sally froze in her armchair. "The Cosh brothers?"

"Oh, the top 1 per cent is as prone to gossip as the bottom 99, although I am a little hurt that you would class me with the dregs, Mrs Langston. Or did my invitation to your little dinner party get lost in the mail?"

"Hollis, that dinner party, as you call it, was merely a fishing expedition to see how much support I could garner. I am aware that I already have your support on such matters."

"Oh, don't you worry, Sally, I know I don't fit in with that crowd; my money still has a shine to it that don't sit well with folks who have had theirs gathering dust in Liechtenstein, Panama or the Cayman islands. But if you go swimming with them 'gators, Sally, you know sooner or later you gonna get bit."

"Hollis, I am not a naive little debutante, I am well aware of the dangers lurking the water."

"If you say so, Sally. But I reckon that must have been some mighty fine booze you gave those folks, to have them lower their misogyny down a notch or two to see you at the helm."

"Well, necessity is the mother of invention and, I believe, innovation. It's time we changed the décor at the White House with a more feminine touch."

"So how can I help you bring that new broom to sweep in old ideas?"

Sally shot him a look, pursing her lips.

"Oh did I say that wrong? I'm sure I meant to say old broom to sweep in new ideas?"

There was a knock on the door, and Sally held up her hand to get Hollis to pause. "Yes, what is it?"

The door opened, and a maid said softly, "Ma'am, dinner is ready to be served."

"Thank you, we'll be right down." Sally waited until the door was closed, then said pleasantly, "I am sure you will sort out the deficiencies in your speech over a nice steak. In the meantime, tell me what you know about Olivia Pope's associates. I understand you are closely acquainted with them, after that presumed kidnapping involving your daughter."

* * *

The room was lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp when Olivia woke, and the first thing she saw on opening her eyes, was a purple dragon staring back at her. Then she smiled, clutching the stuffed toy to her in a hug, breathing in the scent of cotton candy and caramel.

"I told Karen you were missing your Mommy," Fitz said softly, and she turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb, naked, his hair tousled and damp from a shower. "She left that for you before she went to bed."

A slow smile spread over his face as her eyes wandered over his body. "Hungry?" When her gaze flew to his, he teased, "For food. You missed dinner." Adding after a pause, "Felicia fixed you a plate."

Instantly her lustful expression vanished, and she turned, leaving him staring at her back as she muttered, "Then I'm not hungry."

She felt the bed dip under his weight and his arms slide around her as he pressed his face into the side of her neck.

"She just put food on a plate," he whispered with husky humour. "She didn't cook it. And chef even made caramel popcorn clusters for dessert, just for you."

"He did?"

"He did. Still not hungry?"

"Maybe a little." She pressed her back into him, shifting her hand behind her to squeeze his butt.

He chuckled, placing a lingering kiss below her ear, before turning her in his arms to face him. "Food first, then we play."

She smiled, wrapping a leg over his hip. "You seem ready to play now."

This time his kiss was searing, and when he raised his head to look down at her, his face told her all she needed to know.

Carefully turning to place the purple dragon on the night-table, she sat up to slide her clothes off as he watched. Then she knelt at his side, letting her gaze follow the trail of his hand moving along her thigh, up over her stomach to cup her breast.

"Still want to wait?" she asked huskily, looking down at him.

"Yeah." He grinned and grabbed her, making her chortle with glee as he hauled her on top of him.

* * *

**A/N: THANK YOUs all, for keeping this lacklustre writer going- YOUR COMMENTS give me LIFE! Tho' I must say I'm getting over the disappointment of my job-less state after realising I have more time to write! **

**So I thought I'd better get this wedding happening – especially as we're past Valentine's Day in RL! But I think I have to write another transition chapter before the 'wedding chapter'. A few more loose ends to tie up.**

**And don't worry, you haven't seen the last of Zeke. I like him too. And Jerry and Rowan will be helping out at the soup kitchen together – erk, yikes, ohmigawd. **

**I also feel that Rowan does love Olivia the only way he knows how but I don't think their relationship will ever be a Disney movie, more of a ****_Simpsons_****. And I kind of enjoy writing Olivia regressing to her childhood after interacting with her Dad, and the mere ****_thought_**** of Felicia. **

**BTW, Cat is not impressed at the amount of dogs in this story. After sitting on the keyboard staring at the screen, she turned and gave me the evil eye - she feels intelligence is under-represented in this story.  
**


	19. Axioms

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

The next morning, Olivia woke to find herself hemmed in by warm bodies. It didn't take her long to identify the culprits, not when Daisy was on Fitz's pillow, making tiny little yips of noise in the middle of her doggy dreams.

There was a knock on the door. "Ma'am?"

"Come in."

The house-hold staffer opened the door and paused at the sight of Olivia still in bed. "Ma'am, er, I'm here to take the dogs for a walk."

"Good, then I can get out of bed."

The staffer grinned, jangling the dog leads; prompting the canines, who'd been snoring a second ago, to raise their heads in unison and look in the direction of the noise.

When the leads were jangled again, they leapt off the bed and raced out the door, making the staffer chase after them. But she returned a second later, to close the bedroom with a sheepish grin, giving Olivia the privacy she needed to push back the covers and pad to the bathroom without bothering with a robe.

Olivia grinned at herself in the mirror, pulling a shower cap over her hair. Then softly sang her mother's lullaby as she stepped into the shower stall, adjusted the water temperature, and let the warm water wash over her deliciously aching body.

The song gave way to a tuneless, happy hum as she squeezed a big dollop of coconut bodywash onto a washcloth and worked up a generous lather on her skin; following the trails made by Fitz, with his hands and mouth, the night before.

She was still humming under her breath, much later, when she headed towards the private kitchen on the second floor of the Executive Residence.

The breakfast rush was over and there was no sign of the chef, his assistants, two valets and the butler, who usually prepared and plated up the hot breakfast that would have been served in the adjoining family dining room, to Fitz, the children, Rowan and Felicia.

Olivia was in the middle of feeding bananas, apples, spinach and celery into the juicer, making a green smoothie, when an interruption made the muscles on her neck tense instantly.

"Olivia."

Olivia glanced at the slim dark woman with silver cropped hair who'd entered the room, and forced herself to say pleasantly, "Felicia." Before loosening her shoulders, to lift up the juice container and pour out a glass. After a pause, she asked reluctantly, "Would you like some?"

"Thank you. Yes. That would be nice."

Olivia poured out a second glass, saving a portion for Fitz that she intended to take to him in the Oval Office.

"You didn't make it to dinner or breakfast," Felicia murmured, picking up the glass Olivia placed on the counter nearby.

"I was catching up on sleep. Had a couple of busy nights, working."

They stood, leaning against the counter, sipping their glasses, avoiding eye contact.

Then Felicia took an audible breath and said smoothly, "Karen told us that you still haven't found a dress. I think I might be able to help."

Olivia angled a look at Felicia, studying her cherry red Dr Martens, ankle length figure hugging emerald knit dress, bold patterned scarf and chunky tribal bracelets.

Catching the look, Felicia gave a cold smile. "I realise our tastes differ. You prefer a more bland palette to mine—"

"Are those leather boots?" Olivia interrupted.

"They are faux leather. Perfect for vegans. But as I was saying, Olivia, having taught fashion journalism for the past thirty years, I have contacts."

"Thank you, but I was planning to go downtown today and check out the bridal boutiques."

"You're going to wear something off the rack?" Felicia clutched a hand to her heart.

"Yes, a lot of brides do that."

"But you're not like those other brides, Olivia. You're marrying the President of the United States, in the White House. People will be watching. The fashion industry will be watching. You can't just step out in last year's Amsale, Carolina Herrera or Monique Lhuillier. It has to be fresh, custom-made and fashion forward. From now on, you have to think of your body as a canvas for American design and creativity. You are fashion ambassador whether you are aware of it or not. And your dress should be unique. As unique as Jacqueline Bouvier's wedding dress that is on display in the Kennedy library in Boston."

Olivia drained her glass and put it down on the counter with a thunk."Felicia, I don't appreciate the lecture," She watched Felicia's neat brows snap together, then added, "But you do have a point."

"Of course I have a point! This is your chance to introduce the work of a struggling or unknown designer to the world. And unlike Ann Lowe who was referred to as a 'coloured woman seamstress' by Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy; you, Olivia, as a woman of colour can elevate the status of another minority designer by, at the very least, mentioning his or her name."

"Felicia, if you can keep at the forefront of your mind, at all times, that I'm not a newbie undergrad taking one of your classes, I think this could work. But we don't have a lot of time."

"Ann Lowe and her staff worked eight days straight to re-create the Bouvier wedding dress and the 10 bridesmaids dresses, after flood damage ruined the originals. I'm sure we can find someone who is sufficiently professional about deadlines and enthusiastic about quality, to create a dress for you in as much time."

* * *

Olivia stepped over Fitz, lying on the rug playing with Teddy, to place the travel mug containing the green smoothie on the Resolute desk.

"What's that?" He raised a brow.

"It's good for you."

"Oh, something I won't like."

"It's good for you," Olivia repeated, joining them on the floor. "Can we elope?"

Fitz gave a soft chuckle, letting go of Teddy who immediately crawled up to Olivia and tried to grab her necklace. "Why? What brought this on?"

"Felicia wants to help me choose my wedding dress. And I've agreed to go to Manhattan with her. But I just know itt's going to end badly. Our screaming match will be on the evening news. So I was thinking, maybe you and I could go to Vegas instead."

"And get married by Elvis," Fitz added.

"Perfect," Olivia grinned, lifting Teddy onto her lap. "So shall we leave now?"

Fitz sat up to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll get Marine One to fly you to New York."

Olivia covered Teddy's ears and hissed, "Why do you have to be such a hard ass when it comes to Felicia and my dad?"

"They're your family. And because of that, they'll be part of mine." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "They're your history, Livvie. The part I don't know all that much about, the part you only reveal when you get upset with your Dad. I need him around, so I can learn more about you."

"Couldn't you get the CIA to interrogate me instead?"

He laughed. "No. I'm saving that for a special occasion."

Olivia sighed, leaning against Fitz. "So Vegas is out?"

"Yep." He kissed her temple. "But Marine One is in. That way you can yell and scream at Felicia in complete privacy."

* * *

Telecast of mid-morning chat show on ZZZ TV - _DC on Our Watch -_ taped before a live studio audience….

_"…Now are we going to talk about the upcoming nuptials of President Fitzgerald Grant the Third?"_

_"There's not much to talk about – all we know is that President Grant will be marrying his second wife. When? They don't want us to know, but the gossip on Capitol Hill says its sure to be a Valentine's Day wedding."_

_"Aww, that's so romantic - marrying the love of your life on a day that celebrates romantic love."_

_"Well, I'm more interested in the future First Lady. What do we really know about Ms Pope?"_

_"She's a crisis manager. She's handled several high-profile cases, like the one involving Senator Richard Meyers who got caught up in that sexting murder scandal."_

_"You mean he got caught doing 'D' business, instead of the business of legislating."_

_…(Pause as audience cackles with laughter)…_

_"But you know, jokes aside, the murder of Desiree Oaks is still unresolved."_

_"I'm sure there's nothing Ms Pope can do about that, she's a crisis manager, not a homicide detective. Ms Pope handles the media, like she did for Congresswoman Josephine Marcus, the Democrat from Montana."_

_"Key word to focus on there is 'Democrat', Ms Marcus was running against the President , or I should say, Ms Pope's soon-to-be- husband." _

_"Their romance wasn't public then."_

_"But they've known each other since Ms Pope ran Mr Grant's first Presidential campaign. And he won that race, folks. So if she put her hand up to run Josie Marcus' campaign – should we call it a 'slam dunk' scenario?"_

_"What I want to know is how the President felt when he heard Ms Pope had taken on Ms Marcus as a client? Guess there was no nooky for the lovebirds that night."_

_…(Again audience laughter)…_

_"I guess from that we can say Ms Pope is pragmatic, rather than loyal, when it comes to her own business."_

_"Well, Ms Marcus did drop out of the race, when she was widely regarded as the front runner. Now they're saying Governor Samuel Reston of Maryland has a chance to step into the void."_

_"Forget Reston, go back to that Marcus woman. You were talking about Ms Pope's loyalty, maybe it was loyalty to the President that got the Congresswoman out of the race. You know keep your friends close, but your enemies closer - until you can kick them out of your life for good."_

_...(More audience laughter)..._

_"Well, what would you say about her employees whom she keeps even closer. Here's a picture of them at the hearing in Georgia a couple of days ago. I mean some of these guys have criminal records, like this guy here sitting right next to Ms Pope. His name is Mr Harrison Wright."_

_"Didn't he get done for insider trading?"_

_"Yeah, he was sentenced to eight years, but got out after six months."_

_"Ms Olivia Pope was his attorney." _

_"Guess the lady is very good at her job."_

_"Defending criminals."_

"What the hell is this shit?" Harrison stopped the recording. "Why are they talking about me?"

"Or the real question is why are they talking about you now?" Huck muttered.

"So one of our clients saw this and sent the link?" Abby frowned.

"Does that mean we'll all get outed, including me with my murder charge?" Quinn asked, switching her anxious gaze between the other three associates.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about right now. If they were going to talk about you, they'd have said something," Harrison reassured her.

But then Abby tossed in, "Weird, that they didn't mention Cytron. I mean if they really wanted to show the criminality of Liv's employees, they should have focused on the 'Molotov Mistress' aka Quinn Perkins aka Lindsay Dwyer accused of murdering seven people including her cheating boyfriend."

"Her boyfriend wasn't cheating and she didn't do it," Huck said, as Quinn opened her mouth to give a blistering reply, but settled on "Yeah, what he said." Before adding, "So I guess this means that David isn't the leak."

"Of course, he's not the leak!" Abby glared at her. "…This time."

"Aren't we missing the obvious here?" Harrison muttered.

Abby and Quinn looked at each other, but it was Huck who said, "Your colour?"

"No, man," Harrison waved that aside. "Someone's going after Liv, trying to make her look bad, and they're using me to do it."

* * *

"Did you see it?" Fitz asked over the phone, from the Oval Office.

"Yes," Olivia replied, pacing the floor of a hastily-vacated office in Lower Manhattan. "Huck sent me the link. And I've been getting calls non-stop from my former clients, worried that the leak is from my guys. They think OPA is the one talking to the media, breaking our contractual obligations on confidentiality."

"The cases they mentioned were hardly private."

"No, but there were others that the media don't know I've handled. And the high-profile clients are worried that the unsanitised information will get out and make them front page news again, just when their lives are getting back on track."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I tell my clients to do - speak to the press. I've called _DC on Our Watch_, and scheduled an interview with my guys on the talk show. We'll be taping at their studios tomorrow morning."

"Did you get the dress?"

"Yes, kind of."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's a work in progress."

* * *

Taping of ZZZ chat show _DC on Our Watch_, an exclusive interview with Olivia Pope and her Associates, Harrison Wright, Quinn Perkins, Abby Whelan and Huck.

_"Ms Pope, thank you for being on our show, even if we had to keep our live audience out, at the request of the United States Secret Service."_

"We didn't want to put your audience through the invasion of privacy that would be required if they were to attend. I'm sure you can understand the Secret Service Agents have to do their job but at the same time I understand you have to do yours."

_"Oh of course, of course. We're all about being accommodating our guests as much as possible, Ms Pope, and it's truly a pleasure to have you on our show. I believe this is the first media interview you've given since you've given become engaged to the President."_

"I don't talk about my personal life, or my clients' personal life without a signed release form. That's a standard we follow at Olivia Pope and Associates, but I understand you're more interested in the way I run my business and the people I employ, not necessarily the clients I've handled."

_"Oh, we're just doing our job, Ms Pope, we take the pulse of the people and discuss the hot topics of the day."_

"Well, I'm flattered to be a hot topic, and appreciate being invited to the show so I can answer your questions in person, with my associates who are here to answer your questions too."

_"So is this guy's real name Huck? That's it? Is that what's on his birth certificate?"_

"I can speak for myself and my name is Huck."

_"Okay then, well, I guess we should really talk about the guy who grabbed our attention - Mr Harrison Wright. Is it true you were convicted for Insider Trading?'_

"Yes, it's true."

_"And Ms Pope was your defense attorney?"_

"Liv was more than that. She didn't just defend me in court, she gave me my life back. She got me out early on a conditional release, and gave me a job. She's like my big sister, always watching out for me. Always watching out for all of us."

_"So your relationship goes way back before she became your lawyer?"_

"Yeah, we're from the hood." Harrison grinned at Olivia.

"Yes," she laughed. "And when Harrison rang to say he was in trouble, of course, I dropped everything and went to help. My father, who was a law professor, has always told me that when we are faced with injustice, we must do everything in our power to counter it."

_"Your father sounds like an upstanding guy, Ms Pope. What's his name?"_

"Professor Rowan Pope, he's a member of the Emeritus Faculty of Cornell Law School; and regularly writes for the Journal of Empirical Legal Studies on what he considers room for improvement in our legal system."

_"And did you feel there was room for improvement in Mr Harrison's case?"_

"Yes."

_"Mr Harrison, is there anything you'd like to add?"_

"Well, everything I had to say is in the court transcript."

_"We have a copy of that here. Yeah, we like to do our research on this program. The transcript, and let me just paraphrase a bit, says that you bought stock on the recommendations of one of your clients. That was the evidence given by the SEC investigator. But I'm curious, why did you chose not to defend yourself?"_

"It's not that I chose not to defend myself. It was a matter of client-attorney privilege. We hadn't discussed the commission of a crime, I got a hot tip from a client who was also a friend, and I acted on it. That's it."

Olivia leaned forward. "Can I just say that the case against Harrison was just a scare tactic. The SEC wanted Harrison to roll on his client. He didn't. And his punishment didn't fit the so-called crime. I just made that clear to the parole board, and the state governor."

_"In the Parole hearing transcript that we have—"_

"Wow, your researchers have been unusually thorough. I watch your show on an off," said Quinn. "You guys usually get your research from _US Weekly _and _People Magazine_."

_"…Yes, we have a couple of new hires in our research department."_

_"Yep, they sure have been earning their internship wages lately."_

"You're paying your interns?" Abby raised a brow.

_"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we are. Don't all interns get paid?"_

"No," Quinn shook her head "And we're just curious because the network hasn't hired anyone for this show in the last 12 months. Isn't that right, Harrison?"

"Yep, in fact, they've laid off 20 staffers in the past week because of budget cuts."

"That twenty included the two women who complained to the network about sexual harassment. What a coincidence their names got included in the Pink Slip Lottery." Abby said with a smile.

…_(Pause as talk show hosts stare blankly at the OPA, then one of them rallies)…_

_"Never mind that, getting back to the transcript, it says Ms Pope presented evidence that the investigator seduced Harrison in the hope of getting him to reveal his client's correspondence and when he wouldn't, the SEC brought charges against him."_

"If that's what it says in the transcript, then that must be what I did," Olivia smiled.

_"Yes, of course, Ms Pope, we don't expect you to have memorised everything that happened such a long time ago. But Mr Harrison did commit a crime and we just want our audience to know what happened."_

"Harrison served six months for that so-called crime, and we're not here so you can re-try him on this show." Olivia said. "Even if there wasn't the matter of double jeopardy, there is a matter of jurisprudence – how many of you have passed the bar?"

"None," Huck answered.

"But they do have criminal records," Quinn said, "So I guess they do have some familiarity with the legal system."

"DUIs, possession of illegal substances, public indecency, and one charge of child neglect," Huck said placing each folder on the table.

"Would you care to discuss any of your past crimes, in a balance of fairness?" Olivia asked.

* * *

Discussion on _Today's Hot Topic_ on rival network OHH the next day…

_"Now, are we going to talk about that other show that is no more?"_

_"Wow, that just blew my mind – 'DC on Our Watch' being cancelled without warning."_

_"But you're not surprised, are you? Really?"_

_"No I can't say, I'm surprised. If you've got a show's that's been tanking in the ratings and a network that's been taking an axe to its regular programming since the start of the year, then it stands to reason that sooner rather than later, that show would get the chop."_

_"Yeah, but if it was just ratings, we wouldn't have the apology. And for folks who've been asleep while all this was going down, ZZZ network chief has issued a formal statement to Ms Olivia Pope and Mr Harrison Wright saying it was not the network's intent to slander Ms Pope's crisis management business or call into question Mr Harrison's reputation by highlighting a past mistake. If you want to read the apology, sorry statement, in it's entirety, you can find the link on our Facebook page to the Olivia Pope and Associates website."_

_"So when the hosts of DC On Our Watch were talking about getting an exclusive, what they really meant was, they were getting an exclusive into oblivion, I guess."_

_"You think they'll revamp the show and bring in new faces?"_

_"Watch this space, folks, watching this space. And RIP DC on Our Watch until then."_

* * *

**A/N: THANK YOU for the feedback – and for being patient with the Rowan/Felicia story line but that's the only way I could think of to get more personal factoids in that I'm learning thanks to America's Black History month (February). **

**So for a point of accuracy (that's not in my story) Marine One and Air Force One are only called that apparently, if the President is flying in those aircraft. Otherwise they're called by the craft/tail/whatever number. But that was just too hard for my brain to compute – it's a struggle to come up with words, now I have to do numbers too?!**

**The second thing is that I wanted to include a reference to Ann Lowe in this story, after reading about the dismissive way her work was regarded not only by Jackie Kennedy, but also the media. And this after the designer and her staff worked eight days straight to have 11 dresses ready on time, after water damage ruined the original dresses. That make-up work put Ms Lowe $2200 in loss, instead of the $700 profit she was expecting.**

**You can read more via ****_Ann Lowe: Black Fashion Designer Who Created Jacqueline Kennedy's Wedding Dress (PHOTOS) _****- by Julee Wilson in Huffington Post on 02/05/2013; And ****_Wedding dress of Jacqueline Bouvier_**** in Wikipedia **

**And I decided that Hollis would target Harrison because he would be too closely connected to Quinn – so in the vaguest of terms, I mashed together what I felt must have gone down with Harrison, minus Adnan Salif (who?! Exactly!).**

**Articles that helped my confusion-keyed brain come up with all that : ****_Insider Trading Shows Absurdity of Sentencing Guidelines _****- written by Walter Pavlo in Forbes on July 29, 2013 and ****_SEC Rocked By Lurid Sex-and-Corruption Lawsuit_**** written by Matt Taibbi in Rolling Stone on Nov 19, 2012. I tells ya - there are scandals everywhere!  
**

**Sorry for the 60+ readers who've already this after I posted - but I've changed the brother from another mother reference Olivia made about Harrison during the DC on Our Watch interview to just 'Harrison' - the other was a line I intended to change but missed before posting!**


	20. Vignettes

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

**_A WEEK before the wedding…_**

"You got Tony Bennet for the Valentine's Dinner? Was Methuselah otherwise engaged?" Cyrus asked during one of his routine interruptions at James' new office in the East Wing.

"Methsella!" Ella chortled from the high chair next, placed next to James who checking last minute details on his desktop computer.

"That's right, baby girl, Daddy Cyrus is a pot calling kettle," James told Ella, before turning to a scowling Cyrus. "Olivia suggested it because Fitz likes old show tunes, Frank Sinatra and jazz. I've also got Norah Jones. Have you got something to say about her?"

"I don't have a problem with her but the other guests might, since most of them are under 10 years old, and wouldn't have heard of either Tony or Norah as they don't twerk or go around egging the neighbourhood. Shouldn't you have booked the Disney singers for their juvenile sensibilities?"

"We don't have that many kids. Hmm… let's see there's Ella, Teddy, Karen, Jerry, Peter, Carlita Mendosa's 3 children, Sameera Hussein's toddler, Sarah Stanner's two children, and Virginia and Henry Guilford's grand-daughter, That's 12. Hardly a stampede."

"Twelve! Remind me to put my heart pills in my Tux. That's the only way I can cope with 12 crying, whining, snotty-nosed kids."

"I think you've got the kids confused with the Cabinet."

"Either way, you should hire a magician or jumping castle to keep the kids and Cabinet entertained."

"Well, I've got for the Marine Band for the actual wedding. Then there's Yo-Yo Ma and Bobby McFerrin for the wedding luncheon. And if you're still not happy with the entertainment, you can always go to the Mayor's open air concert on the National Mall. I think he's got Stevie Wonder, Sting, Jennifer Hudson and Imagine Dragons."

"So much for the hush-hush wedding. This thing is out of control."

"The city is just happy to get involved in their love story. We've had anything like this celebrated at the White House in living memory. Even my parents are too young to remember Grover Cleveland."

"Hmpf," was all Cyrus said in response.

"Anyway, they're not calling it Presidential Wedding celebrations around the city. They're calling them Valentine's Day celebrations."

"Yes, yes, I know the Chief of Police is organising a _Valentine's Day_ street parade with the DC Police Regional Pipe Band and marching bands from DC, Maryland and Virginia. And the Blue Angels will be doing a _Valentine's Day_ fly past, courtesy of Andrews Air Force Base as a tribute to their Commander in Chief and former flyboy Fitzgerald Grant."

"Don't forget the street party on the U Street Corridor, and the laser and light show on the US Capitol building. We've even got the National Zoo handing out stuffed animals and heart-shaped candy. Pretty much everyone is getting involved in this wedding by stealth. "

"You know traffic is going to be a nightmare."

"Which is why we're staying at Blair House."

"Remember to bring the garlic and silver crosses, so we can exorcise any lingering ghosts."

* * *

**_FIVE DAYS_** **_before the wedding…_**

"Wow, this is amazing!" Olivia looked at the bouquets, balloons, teddy bears and a multitude of cards hanging off the White House Fence.

"Ma'am, right now it's a security threat. We don't know what's lurking beneath all those flowers. They need to be removed," said the White House security chief.

"There's more on the other side. On all sides," The head gardener said drily. "Looks like the cat's out of the bag, ma'am, as far as your secret wedding is concerned."

Just then some of the well-wishers saw Olivia and screamed, "Ms Pope! Ms Pope! Olivia! Can we get a picture?!"

Olivia smiled and waved back, taking a step towards the gate but the security chief stopped her. "Ma'am, wait. There's been an increase in the number of hate mail we've been receiving. And the President has asked us to increase your security detail."

Minutes later, Olivia walked out of the gate, flanked by four Secret Service agents. "Hello, how are you all? Did you say you wanted a picture?"

"Um, can the secret service not be in it?"

Olivia glanced at the agents with a smile, and they each took a step to the side, but only a step and watched the well-wishers like hawks.

Several minutes later, Olivia walked back to the White House to speak with the household staff. "Let's bring the flowers inside. Make the staff offices a bit more festive with balloons and flowers. We can send the rest to the hospitals and care homes."

"There are people leaving cakes and candy as well, ma'am," said the head gardener. "We've got birds getting to them. And the odd squirrel."

"We'll have to put that stuff in the trash," said the security chief. "Can't take any chances as we don't what's in them."

* * *

**_FOUR DAYS_** **_before the wedding…_**

"There will be no dogs at the wedding." Rowan said firmly when he caught Jerry and Karen in the third floor centre hall, training the dogs to pull a toy sled with a doll tied to it.

"Yes, there will." Jerry glared back.

"No, there will not."

"Yes. There. Will."

Karen stared from one to the other, then surprised Rowan by reaching for his hand. "You don't understand. Mom and Dad said it's okay. The dogs are going to wear red bow ties and pull Teddy in a sled. Not this sled, but another one. A better one."

"Yeah," muttered Jerry, still glowering, "The Maintenance guys are organising the sled. And the red iron gazebo for the Rose Garden."

"And Teddy will have the rings," Karen added.

"Teddy can't hold the rings. He's a baby – he'll eat them."

"No, he won't," Jerry refuted. "The rings will be in the pocket of Teddy's baby tux. The pocket has a button."

"This is going to be a disaster," Rowan sighed.

"No, it won't," Karen smiled. "You'll see."

* * *

**_THREE DAYS_** **_before the wedding…_**

"Sally Langston sends her apologies. She won't be able to attend the Valentine's Day dinner, " Fitz told the Chief of Protocol.

"Has she scheduled an unavoidable illness for 7pm? I'm surprised Daniel Langston didn't want to make it for cocktails," Cyrus muttered as the Chief of Protocol left with the revised guest list.

"I believe, she has to fly to Georgia on an urgent family matter."

"Really? Has the daughter got herself pregnant with another deadbeat boyfriend?"

Fitz shot Cyrus a dry look. "What I will say is that I won't miss her. And on a related but completely different subject, this was one of your better suggestions to have a Valentine's Day Reception, in place of a formal wedding reception."

"Well, it's a convenient way to invite Cabinet and staff to the party, without worrying about World Leaders and Celebrities, but I don't see how Hollis Doyle fits in any appropriate category. Is it wise to have that criminally-inclined opportunist at your celebratory dinner when that snake has been wooing the Pretender to your office?"

"Olivia suggested it."

"Ah, of course. 'Friends close, but enemies closer'. Or should that be 'divide and rule'?"

"I believe it's 'an eye for an eye ends up making the whole world blind' – Mahatma Ghandi. Besides it's Valentine's Day. It's not a bad thing to spread the love a bit."

"Or better yet, get a chance to see the woman Hollis has in his sights to be his sixth wife." Cyrus smacked his knee and stood up. "Well, fun times are over. Time for that Cabinet Meeting, and then you're meeting with the Attorney General, who'll update you on the latest petition by the Gun Alliance."

"Then I fly to Iowa," Fitz muttered with a grim face.

"Yes, sir, to tour the Alcoa plant and talk about your plans to resurrect manufacturing in this country, then shake hands with a few school kids who will hopefully remind their parents to vote for you in November and you'll be back in time for the wedding rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Oh, and don't forget, you're picking up that Chinese kid on your way home."

"Cyrus, Peter's Malaysian."

"Yeah, whatever. Make sure you ID him. Just in case they send another kid in his place."

* * *

"Why are we hiding in the Music Room?" Olivia asked as Fitz pulled her down onto one of the mini staircases on either side of the raised platform.

"We're not hiding, we're making beautiful music together," Fitz grinned, cupping her face in both hands and kissing her softly. Then he drew back and whispered, "Listen."

"I can't hear anything."

"That's what I mean."

She chuckled, sliding her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder. "It'll be over soon."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm enjoying this. I really am."

"But…?"

"One minute?"

"One minute." She settled more closely in the crook of his shoulder, as he pressed a smile against her forehead and tightened his arms around her.

Their heartbeats synchronised, just like their breathing, and Olivia closed her eyes, feeling a deep well of contentment just letting the seconds tick by.

"I think that's more than a minute," she chuckled eventually, although she made no move to shift away and Fitz made no move to release her.

"Fly with me to Iowa."

She drew back then, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. "Carlita, Sameera and the Guildfords will be arriving today. I have to be here to settle them in the Blair House complex."

He turned and kissed her palm. "Maybe I should leave Jerry behind to help out."

"No, he needs a break from my dad."

Fitz chuckled and gave her one last kiss, before helping her up off the steps.

* * *

**_TWO DAYS before the wedding…_**

_Fashion First and Always _Live interview with Eileen Perry and Fred Au, Associate Professors of Fashion, as well Dora Dragosavich, Fashion Instructor at Parsons School of Design …

"Is this true - Parsons School of Design will be making the Future First Lady's wedding dress? Everything about the wedding has been Top Secret so this is a real scoop!"

"We have received Ms Pope's permission to speak about the work our students are doing. And it's actually two outfits. One for the actual wedding ceremony which is planned for the morning, and one for the Valentine's Day dinner that evening."

"Ah yes, the informal wedding reception that's not really a wedding reception. But isn't this thrilling for your students to be involved in such a prestigious class project? We'll we see avant garde fashions – like leather and faux fur?"

"Felicia Adams—"

"Is that Ms Pope's step mother?"

"I believe there's a close family connection, although I can't say for sure, but we've known Felicia for years. And she was very precise in what she wanted for Ms Pope. She was adamant that the designs had to reflect Ms Pope's dignity as Future First Lady while exhibiting our fashion forward ideas that our students and alumni are famous for."

"Yes, you have a lot of famous graduates – like Donna Karen, I'm wearing one of her dresses. Gorgeous, isn't it? Love the red colour and it's wool blend so it's nice and warm in this cold weather. And I'm wearing the Eau de Parfum spray by Narciso Rodriquez. Lovely and sensuous. But the list of alumni also includes my wedding dress designer Lela Rose, meanswear icon Tom Ford, and the up and coming Jason Wu."

"Some of our alumni will be helping on the project as advisors. So there'll be experience mixed with enthusiasm for this invaluable learning assignment. And due to the tight deadline, in a positive sense, this project has galvanised the whole school, not just the fashion department."

"Are there any spoilers you can give us about the designs?"

"Only that our Future First Lady will wear a knee-length outdoor ensemble for the wedding ceremony, and an evening dress for dinner. The latter will be more in keeping with the theme of the day."

"Ooh, that's sounds fittingly mysterious and now I can't wait to see what Olivia Pope will be wearing on the day that she marries President Fitzgerald Grant the Third. And be sure to join us here at _Fashion First and Always _for the latest on that story…"

* * *

**_THE DAY_** **_before the wedding…_**

"I've been held up," Fitz sighed over the phone.

"I know. It's okay. Cyrus has offered to stand in for you at the rehearsals."

"Wow, global warming is a reality in his corner of the world."

Olivia laughed. "How was Iowa?"

"Good. Great. I think we have another Presidential candidate in the family."

"Perfect!" she laughed.

"Livvie…"

"Yes, Fitz."

"You know, it'll be great. No matter what happens"…

* * *

"Ma'am, we have a problem in the kitchen," The chief usher said, appearing on the threshold of her new office, where she was in the middle of confirming her schedule with the Social Secretary.

"Normally, we'd take care of it," The usher added apologetically, "But since it involves your friend…"

Olivia walked into the main kitchen on the ground floor of the White House, to find Abby holding a gun at a cowering woman in a blue pantsuit; with several agents training their guns on Abby.

"Good afternoon, how are we all doing today," Olivia said, smiling at everyone including the chef and his assistants who were crowding into the farthest end of the room. "Abby, why are you holding a gun at Tracy from _Cakes Galore_ Magazine? Tracy, are you okay?"

Her eyes scrunched shut, Tracy nodded uttering a small whimper of sound.

"Don't ask her if she's okay! Ask me! You should have heard her going on and on about Charles and what he did to put me in hospital. And she wanted to know how he ended up with a broken kneecap! It's like what happened with Harrison! She's a snoop and I want to know who sent her!"

"Nobody sent me!" Tracy whimpered. "My brother is a bartender and he says that Charles Putney comes in most nights and starts rambling on about his bitch ex-wife Abby and her vicious fixer friend."

Abby and Olivia exchanged a glance, then Olivia said pleasantly, "Abby, give me the gun."

The agents lowered their weapons as Abby handed over the gun. Then they all ducked with a gasp, when Olivia fired the gun at one of the pans suspended over the sous chef's island bench. The pellet hit the pan, resulting in a splotch of bright yellow followed by a reverberating silence.

The chef was the first to react. "It's a paint gun! Phew! I thought I'd have to dig a bullet out of my favourite fry pan."

"Washable paint spray," Abby smiled. "Don't worry, chef, I don't buy the cheap stuff."

"But it looks just like a handgun," said the discomfited reporter.

"But it isn't," Olivia said. "Now, I understood that you were here to take pictures of Abby's cake making, with help from the White House staff, not do an expose of her private life. Do you think you can keep to the original brief?"

"Er, yes, ma'am."

"Good, as you were." Olivia paused. "Actually, no. As you should be." Then tucking a hand into Abby's arm and tugged her out into the corridor.

"Okay, okay, I won't threaten that woman with anything, not even a gluegun," Abby said drolly, before Olivia could speak.

"Abby! Where is your real gun?"

"In my cookie jar. You know the one shaped like a Tabby Cat. I didn't think I could get it past the Secret Service. So I left it at home."

"Please take it out of your cookie jar and put it in the safe. I can't have one of Olivia Pope and Associates walking around with a gun, when it's against the law in DC."

"And your future husband is waging war on guns."

"Yes."

* * *

**_11.59pm THE NIGHT_** **_before Valentine's Day…_**

Olivia stared at the clock radio on the night-table, waiting. Then just when she decided to grab her cell phone, it rang.

"Perfect timing," she chuckled huskily. "How was the flight?"

"Uneventful. Can I sneak over to see you?"

"No, it's bad luck." Olivia murmured, seeing the clock tick over to midnight. "How's Peter?"

"Gone straight to bed. And so has Jerry. I hear Karen is having a sleepover with you."

"Yep, she didn't want me to get scared, staying by myself in this bad place." Olivia smiled. But Fitz sounded serious when he asked,

"How do you feel about being in the Blair House complex?"

"It's not Blair House. It's Trowbridge House and I'm fine. I get that it'll be a lot easier for me to get to the White House via the basement, than to try and dodge traffic in the morning. Besides it's nice being with everyone here."

"Even Felicia?"

She chuckled. "Okay, you got me."

"So I heard that Jerry and I missed a fun-filled day."

Olivia snuffled a laugh. "That's one way of putting it."

"Tell me about it. Tom just heard the bare bones from the agents on your detail."

"Everything was going fine until one of the kids found Abby's paintball gun, and popped the balloons the staff had got for the kids. The noise scared the dogs who ran straight into the middle of the Marine band. Then while we were trying to pick everyone up off the ground, the dogs went racing across the snow on the South Lawn. And we all had to go chasing after them but we never found the doll that was attached to the sled, for training purposes. And that was just the wedding rehearsal.

"Then at dinner my dad and Cyrus got into an argument about _some_ minorities being more equal than others, which got everyone yelling. Then someone knocked over the sugar sculpture centrepiece and it nearly fell on Carlita and Sameera. They're both okay – I got the White House doctor to check them out for concussion, but they said there was no direct impact.

"After that we took everyone down to the basement bowling alley, hoping physical activity would mend a few bridges, but the Guilfords and Quinn got lost. I think they just wandered off looking at pictures but we had a major Security alert. Then we decided to call it a night, but when we got back to the Blair House complex, Harrison and Huck told the kids ghost stories and they refused to go to bed."

"Then what happened?"

"Zeke and Oscar had to go into each of their bedrooms, with their ghost-busting weapons – which was Zeke's walking stick and Oscar's briefcase – and after a lot of shouting and screaming, they caught the ghosts and took the ghosts away to be locked up in the White House basement. It was very entertaining. I hope those two got back to the White House okay."

Fitz chuckled."Yeah, we're having an impromptu buck's night in the upstairs kitchen."

"You guys need to go to bed. One of you is getting married today."

He chuckled softly. "Is it bad that I want us to skip the wedding and just go straight to the honeymoon?"

"Not really, not when my dresses won't be ready until 9 and the wedding is at 10.30am."

"I'd marry you, even if you turned up wearing a bedsheet."

She laughed. "Well, you might just me see in one of those."

They fell silent listening to each breathe. Then he said softly, "Livvie…?"

"Yes, baby?"

"It'll be fine, no matter what happens."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

**A/N: Helloooooo! Sorry for the delay. This was going to be the wedding chapter, but then the scene with Abby popped into my head (originally she was at her own house – then I remembered that the Secret Service would not have allowed her to make anything for the President that they hadn't scrutinised first – so off to the White House kitchen and using their ingredients!). Then I had the scene with Rowan and the kids in the hallway teaching the dogs to pull a sled – and then I had writer's block! Aaargh! But hopefully this sort of makes sense!**

**So I couldn't decide on a designer for the wedding dress (mostly because I don't do fashion – I'm a Target, K-Mart, what's on clearance kind of girl) – and then I accidentally came across the Parsons School of Design in New York – and was incredibly impressed by the number of quality graduates: ****_Donna Karen, Tom Ford, Jason Wu, Prabal Gurung, Mark Badgley and James Mischka, Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez, Isaac Mizrahi. The list just goes on and on…Marc Jacobs, Proenza Schouler, Anna Sui, Tracy Reese, Narciso Rodriguez and of course Carly Cushnie and Michelle Ochs. _****Whew. Oh and Jason Wu is up and coming because seriously if Michelle Obama hadn't worn his dress at the first Inauguration – would the world have heard of him that quickly? The power of politics in fashion!****BTW, Parson's School of Design is real, but everything else I've written in relation to it is not – including the instructors!**

**So for anyone who's reading this story without having read part one – Carlita Mendoza is Carolina Florez,wife of General Benicio Florez (the Scandal TV character that was rewritten in the chapter ****_Reality Check_**** in ****_A Presidential Divorce_****) and Sameera Hussein was Olivia's lawyer in the Alienation of Affection Case that Olivia was charged with in North Carolina again in Part I of this story. They are my two carry-over character references from the previous story. Sarah Stanner is a Scandal TV character - played by Lisa Edelstein in 2x16 Top of The Hour.  
**


	21. Valentine's Day AM

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

_"…Brrr… it sure looks like hell hath frozen over in Washington DC… 10 inches of snow is what we all woke up to this morning. Schools, airports and government offices are closed. People are advised to stay off the roads as we've already had a few bad weather accidents. What about the Valentine's Day street parade? Is that cancelled? Actually, no the DC chief of police says that's going ahead once the snow ploughs have cleared the roads…"_

_"…We have a wedding at the White House today, and boy, is it going to be a white one. But a little bit of snow won't stop a Presidential Wedding from going ahead. Word is the First Bride's dress had to be flown in by a military helicopter. That is after the commercial flight it was meant to be flown in, first class, was cancelled. Even Valentine's Day events around the city are still going ahead, but my recommendation to you is: if you're heading to the National Mall, take a shovel and wear thermal underwear…"_

_"…The blizzard that swept through the northeast of the country may have put a pall on Valentine's Day flower deliveries, but nothing is going to stop the first White House wedding in 128 years. The folks up there were prepared for the snow storm and it's all systems go, as is the party on the U Street Corridor, though from what we hear it's now being called the Snow Party Downtown…"_

Fitz switched off the television and turned to Jerry and Tom, both resplendent in their tuxedos with red silk ties and rosebud boutonnieres.

"Let's do this," he grinned.

* * *

Olivia stood in front of the window staring out at the thick snow on the ground. The bitter wind had subsided, settling the flurries of snow and the sun was out, shining its bright light on the snow covered tree branches outside her window at Trowbridge House.

The wedding would have been warmer indoors, but when Fitz had called to ask if she wanted a change of venue – from the Rose Garden to the Red Room – she said no.

It didn't feel right to get married anywhere but the Rose Garden; the place where she and Fitz first declared the painful truth of their love. And the place where Fitz had offered, and she had accepted the promise of a future together. Now she and Fitz would finally become husband and wife in 'their place', in the Rose Garden.

She moved away from the window, breathing in the quiet of the room. The hair stylist, make-up artist, photographer, videographer, their assistants and Felicia had left, ostensibly to give her a moment to herself. She sat down on the edge of an armchair, willing herself to take that minute when all she wanted to do was race down and meet Fitz, who she knew was waiting just as impatiently for her.

In a few minutes her father would knock on the door and it would be time to walk through the basement tunnel.

Olivia got to her feet and walked over to the floor length mirror to take one last look at herself. Thankfully her dresses had arrived, and they were a perfect fit. She glanced from her ballerina-style up do, down her ivory white wool coat to her Louboutin ivory pumps. Other than her mother's earrings she wore no jewellery, and she had a stylised ivory satin flower in her hair instead of a veil.

The only thing missing now was her bouquet. Hopefully Felicia could find out what was causing the unexpected delay. Unexpected because unlike the weather delayed Valentine's floral deliveries all across the city, Olivia's flowers were arriving from the White House flower shop, that got its supply from the greenhouses above the West Colonnade.

"Olivia." Her father's authoritative voice broke into her thoughts, prompting her to hurry forward and open the door.

Rowan was wearing a charcoal grey morning suit, brightened with by a red silk jacquard tie, and matching handkerchief in his breast pocket.

Olivia smiled, watching her father's usually stern expression soften. For a moment, he looked at her, a sheen appearing in his eyes. "You look beautiful."

Olivia's felt a ripple of surprise at the emotion in his face and his voice. "Thank you, Dad," she said quietly, and after a pause she added, "You look handsome."

Rowan hesitated, then came into the room, closing the door. "Olivia, there is something I need to say to you, now that we have an unexpected cessation in hostilities."

"Dad.."

"Olivia, please, let me say this." He paused, looking at her. Then said quietly, "You are my daughter. I love you. I may not have shown that to you with affection, or even kindness at times. But I do love you and I want the best for you, always. And that is why I want you to know that I'm happy; I'm happy that you have found a man who makes you happy."

Olivia looked at her father, ignoring a sudden urge to give him a hug. Instead she said softly, "Thank you."

"But…"

Olivia sighed.

"But remember that in this marriage, you will be judged at a higher standard than your predecessor."

"Fitz loves me."

"I'm not talking about Fitz. I'm talking about the public who will stand in judgement of the first African American wife of a white Republican President. That is a heavy burden to bear, but I know you will bear it. Felicia and I will help you."

Olivia stopped herself from rolling her eyes, and muttered, "Thank you, Dad."

"Good. That's all I wanted to say. Shall we?"

She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm in relief and hurried her steps towards the door.

* * *

Press release from Parsons School of Design…

**_When you become the First Lady of our nation's Commander in Chief…_**

_…Ms Olivia Pope will be wearing a sleeveless, ivory silk-Mikado dress. The dress is shaped to fit with a round-yoke neck, structured bodice, and straight knee-length skirt. The bridal effect is enhanced with an embellishment of hand embroidered lace and bead trim at the neck; in addition to a close-stitched row of ivory satin buttons from neck to lower back…_

_…The bridal daywear ensemble will be completed with an ivory wool-silk coat. The coat is an ultra-feminine military style, with a raised round collar and subtle trumpet sleeves. The single-breasted, asymmetric opening tapers down to a tulip hem above the knee. Embellished with ivory satin buttons along the opening… _

* * *

Olivia paused on the landing, gripping her father's arm, surprised to see familiar faces among the White House household staff, waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

Then as she and Rowan reached the last step, one by one the senior staffers stepped forward and handed her a rose, in shades of white, pink and red; while at the same time, softly murmuring their best wishes.

The last staffer to step up was the White House Chief Floral Designer, who took the impromptu bouquet from Olivia's hands and deftly tied the roses with a red satin ribbon and handed them back, with a smile. "Your bouquet, ma'am," she murmured, as Olivia blinked away unexpected tears. "We wanted to surprise you."

* * *

There was another surprise waiting for Olivia in the basement. Right at the entrance of the cold clinical tunnel was an agent, in the driver's seat of a golf cart decorated with ribbons and balloons. The sight made Olivia chuckle as she and her father took their seats in the back, and she laughed out loud when the agent drove with 'Here Comes The Bride', playing on a portable radio.

She felt giddy with happiness by the time she entered the Cabinet Room and was greeted with squeals of delight from Quinn, Abby and Karen.

"You guys look so beautiful!" Olivia cried, giving them all a hug.

"Like the coat," Quinn grinned.

"Can we trade?" Abby asked, seriously.

"Mom, you look amazing," Karen said, her arms around Olivia's waist.

"So do you, Baby K," Olivia smiled.

The girls were wearing red organza and satin dresses, with matching red wool overcoats. Quinn and Abby were wearing red roses tucked into their French Braids, while Karen had rosebuds circling her ballerina bun.

Then Peter walked into the room carrying Teddy and Olivia rushed forward to give them hugs.

"You both look very handsome!" she grinned, taking Teddy in her arms so Peter could re-adjust his tie. Both boys were wearing black tuxedos with red satin cumberbands and ties.

Teddy looked especially cute in his custom-made baby Tux, and he seemed to find Olivia's outfit fascinating too, staring and cooing, then casually made a grab for her head.

"Give me that child," Rowan muttered as Olivia ducked in time.

Then the dogs barked and Olivia laughed, going over to pat them. They were all wearing red bow ties and had red leads, but only Daisy and Rex were attached to the red wooden sled, made of carved wood and roller skate wheels. This was done to avoid a repeat of the runaway dog train of the previous day, and it had been decided that Karen would sit in the sled holding Teddy on her lap.

Just then James entered through one of the glass paned doors and said, "Ready?"

And everyone quickly got into place. Quinn reached for Darth's lead and went out first, to be met on the open walkway by Huck; followed by Abby, holding Poppy's lead, paired with Harrison.

Next Olivia handed Karen her flower basket, while Peter took hold of the leads for Rex and Daisy and carefully pulled out of the room.

Olivia heard laughter through the open doorway from the small gathering of their friends, then the music of the Marine band changed from preppy show tunes to the Wedding March, and Rowan reached for her hand, tucking it through his arm.

They stepped onto the red carpet, strewn with rose petals, then paused at the sight of the Marines standing on either side of the platform, each one holding a red heart-shaped helium balloon.

Beaming with delight, her gaze arrowed towards the wedding gazebo, where Fitz, Tom and Jerry were waiting. And as their eyes met, Fitz blew her a kiss, sending another ripple of laughter through the seated crowd.

The final few steps to reach Fitz seemed to take forever, but finally they made it. And Olivia couldn't stop smiling, barely noticing that Rowan patted her hand before she slipped it from his arm and stepped towards Fitz, who immediately leaned forward whispering, "You're breathtaking" and kissed her.

"Daddy, you're supposed to wait until after," Karen protested, making everyone laugh again.

And then he was helping her onto the dais, and the officiant began speaking. "We are here today to witness and celebrate the union of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third and Olivia Carolyn Pope in marriage."

At which point, Fitz leaned in and gave Olivia another kiss, prompting the officiant to say dryly, "I believe that's my cue to hurry up."

There was more laughter that drifted into silence, as the officiant continued with the blessing: "May you stand united always in your love of each other and the love of your family. May you find joy in the good times; compassion and understanding in the sad. May you find strength to see each other through adversity, and the wisdom to grow and change with the seasons of time and circumstance. And may you find happiness even in the stillness and silence of each other's company. May you realise these blessing in the life you will share from this day forward…

"...Please repeat after me, Do you Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third, take Olivia Carolyn Pope to be your lawfully wedded wife, sharing your path, equal in love, through the joys and sorrows you will face in your life together?"

"I do."

"And do you Olivia Carolyn Pope, take Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third and his children, Fitzgerald Grant the Fourth, Karen Michaela and Theodore Wallace to love, cherish and keep in the life you will share together?"

"I do." Olivia said a split second before, Jerry, Karen and Teddy said,

"She does."

"We do."

"Blah!"

"The little dude agrees."

Again there were ripples of laughter.

"Now do we have the rings?"

Peter stepped forward carrying Teddy and Jerry reached over to unbutton Teddy's tux pocket and then he looked horrified, just as Fitz looked horrified, then Peter muttered, "Stop playing, man."

Jerry grinned handing over the rings, as Olivia chuckled and Fitz gave a wry look, and glanced down to make sure he had Olivia's eternity band that she usually wore on her index finger, and his new gold band with an eternity symbol engraved on the inside.

Taking her ring, Fitz gazed deep into Olivia's eyes and said huskily, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you, which has no beginning and no end. I am yours today, and for all our tomorrows."

Blinking back tears, Olivia murmured in turn, "I give you this ring, as I give to you all that I am and accept from you, all that you are."

Then the officiant said, "I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Mr President. Again."

Wrapping their arms around each other, they kissed as cheers, whistles and clapping erupted, and red balloons were released to float up to the sky.

And after being surrounded by hugs and kisses, the newly wedded couple eventually made it to the Oval Office to sign their marriage certificate.

* * *

_"…I hope all you folks watching at home can hear me, because the moment we saw those balloons go up, on the big screens at the National Mall, the crowds here went wild, hollering and screaming. Some were even crying. With joy I think. And I'm pretty sure I've burst an ear drum! Oh and there's another roar, because we've got the Blue Angels doing their fly past… Hey! Did they just do a love heart? Sure looked like a love heart…"_

_"…The party has just begun on U Street. They're popping champagne and passing around cake. But it looks like the snow making competitions have been upstaged by a kissing contest. Although the clear winner in that department is our President. Loved the way he planted that smackeroo on the new Mrs Grant. He didn't just kiss her once. I lost count how many times he did kiss her - before, during and after the ceremony. Le Sigh big time…" _

"…_Okay, admission time. I'm a hard core cynic when it comes to Valentine's Day. I don't do roses and chocolates when February 14__th__ rolls around. Nope, not ever, that's not for me. What you'll see me doing is celebrating at a Stupid Cupid Party or Worst Date Ever Happy Hour. But that all changed today. I gotta say there's just something that turns you into mush watching two people in love. And the new Mrs Grant didn't just marry the President, she said 'I do' to the whole family…"_

* * *

Back at the White House, the formal pictures had given way to candid shots with dogs and stray balloons photo-bombing frequently. Not that Fitz or Olivia cared as they were kissing in most of them.

"Jeez, Dad, do you realise you're wearing more of Mom's lipstick than Mom is?" said Jerry dryly, then roared with laughter when Olivia and Fitz hauled him between them and kissed his cheeks. This prompted a laugh from a watching Rowan and Cyrus, who glanced at each other, then went their separate ways.

Once the photos were taken, the kids ran off to play in the snow, taking the dogs with them, while the adults drifted into conversation, enjoying pre-luncheon drinks and canapés.

Then Tom appeared to tell Mr and Mrs Grant their car was ready to take them to church.

The Secret Service standing on the Portico steps was impressive, but the sight of what they had done to the Presidential limousine had Olivia and Fitz breaking out in laughter.

"We heard you wanted a Vegas Wedding, sir," Tom said solemnly. "Since you couldn't have that, we thought this might work instead," he added in reference to the giant sparkling love hearts on top of the car, proclaiming the words 'Just Married'.

"You don't seriously expect us to drive around the city in that, do you?" Fitz shook his head with a rueful grin.

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, Fitz. It'll be great!" Olivia laughed, taking hold of his hand and blowing a kiss to Tom and the other agents. "Thank you, guys! This is awesome!"

"Awesome?" Fitz raised a brow, once they were snuggled up inside.

"Awesome," Olivia grinned.

Fitz smiled, looking at her shining with happiness and he felt a fierce, protective joy. "We're married, Mrs Grant."

"I know, Mr Pope."

"Hey, that makes me sound like your dad."

"Eww!"

He laughed, tightening his arms around her as the car exited the gates and entered Pennsylvania Avenue. Then glanced around when she gasped, "Look at all those people!"

There were people waving at them, holding up signs and taking pictures, but the crowd noise was blocked out by the sound proofing in the car.

"Let's go and say hello."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Do you realise that this is the only time I'm going to have alone with you, for at least another couple of hours?"

Olivia settled her head on his shoulder and said softly, "Don't think I don't know when you're hiding something from me."

"What makes you think that?" he mumbled against her forehead.

"I know you," she smiled as the car made its way slowly towards the two DC churches where they were to receive blessings as a married couple.

* * *

Wedding Luncheon Menu on the White House Chef Instagram…

**_Starters…_**

_Caribbean Jerk Chicken skewers with cucumber cilantro dipping sauce_

_Tempeh pot stickers with soy dipping sauce_

_Mini lobster rolls_

_Mac and Cheese 'muffins'_

_Halal lamb koftas with mint yogurt dipping sauce_

_Miniature fish tacos_

_Antipasto kebab skewers_

_Smoked Barbeque Ribs (halal)_

_Stuffed mushroom with fresh herbs_

_Vegetable samosas_

_Halal beef sliders (vegetarian option: spiced chickpea patties)_

**_Afters…_**

_Dessert Buffet &_

_Wedding cake: Red Velvet Cake with Ermine Icing and sugared roses_

* * *

Jerry's Instagram…

_1) Teddy nodding off during Rowan's speech (yep, it was boring); Teddy snoring during Dad's speech (too Presidential) _

_2) Ella likes the cheesecake pop on James' plate more than hers; changes her mind and hands it back to James, half eaten  
_

_3) Baby K shares her root-beer float with her dress; Abby and Quinn help clean her up._

_4) Mom and Dad caught kissing again (x20!) and there's Cyrus looking on (dis)approvingly as we all wait for cake_

_5) Peter and Harrison lead the kids in a hip hop dance, to the music of Yo-Yo Ma, Bobby McFerrin and the Marine Band_

_6) Virginia Guilford, Sameera Hussein, Carlita Mendoza and James Novak tell Mum the secrets of marriage. Here's Mom shocked, amazed, 'I ain't doing that' and laughing _

_ 7) Huck and Oscar assist Zeke do magic tricks. Dad wants to know how they got Darth into a hat, let alone how they pulled him out of it. Answer: Classified_

_8) Hank Guilford and Obeid Hussein talk about the Seahawks winning this year's Superbowl. Hank said Bruno Mars was great with his James Brown moves, but Beyonce shut it down in 2013 (literally!)_

_9) Tom smiles getting his third slice of cake from Felicia. There's a line of Marines waiting after him; Carlita comes over to help  
_

_10) Mom and Dad dance the wedding waltz, then the Macarena, and here's me shaking my head at Dad's moves; here's me going to rescue Mom_

_11) Mom and Dad thank the clean-up crew, with hugs, kisses and wedding thank you gifts._

_12) Mom and Dad thank the White House kitchen and wait staff. More gifts and hugs. "Great Job!" Now they have to get ready for the evening session. That's for the grown-ups (read: Boring!) so no pictures from me…_

* * *

**A/N: Well, that was the wedding part One… I've waited long enough to see OLITZ married, so went all out in describing my version of events! Took a long time deciding on what Olivia should wear, changed my mind so often I thought Jerry would be running for President by the time I finished this chapter. Anyway, I thought I should post this before the bridal outfit gets changed for the 9999999****th**** time! **

**But I did have a LOT of fun researching wedding outfits; discovering Cristobel Balenciaga and (the real) Dior and that I like fashions of the 1950s when dresses were designed for women not Sponge Bob Squarepants. **

**Have also acquired a whole new vocabulary in fashion: tulip skirt, bell skirt, balloon skirt, trenchcoat, steampunk, Lolita etc, but it's still not enough – there were so many outfits that looked good in pictures that I didn't know how to describe in text, and I'm also not sure how fabric feels from Google images- so I wasn't sure which fabric combinations would create static!**

**Anyway as Google gives 50 different versions of everything… here's where I got my inspiration for Olivia's outfit : Pinterest number: 259590365995095040 for the top part of her coat (forget the fabric in the actual images). The bottom half is based on Ted-baker-button-front-plaid-tulip-skirt-light-grey on Lyst DOT com. Olivia's dress has been ripped off from Rose Clara 204 Badajoz/101 Babel styles. **

**Also the wedding party has too many men – Tom and Jerry (heh, heh, couldn't resist) plus Harrison and Huck, but we'll take it that Harrison and Huck just escorted Abby and Quinn down the aisle and then took their seats. I just didn't want to leave them out!**

**The wedding ceremony was inspired by Google searches , including this fantastic site that gave the wedding speeches – I can't find the link in my multiple notes. Will try and include it in the next chapter…**


	22. Valentine's Day PM

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm**

** No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Why don't I just cut these with scissors?" Fitz grumbled, working his way down her back, unfastening the white satin buttons on her dress.

"No!" Olivia protested, "This dress has to go on exhibition."

"What exhibition?"

"The exhibition of the first African American wife of a white Republican President." When Fitz angled his head to look at her, she chuckled. "Something my dad said."

His hands left her dress to circle her waist from behind, pulling her against his naked chest. "What else did he say," he murmured, against her neck.

"He's happy that you make me happy." She leaned her head against his, sliding her hands over his arms.

He pressed a kiss into her skin, tracing the curve of her stomach, feeling his way up to her breasts. Then he gusted a laugh, when she whispered on a thread of urgency, "Take my dress off and do that again."

In the end he got enough buttons undone to help her shimmy out of her dress, taking her blue lace and satin panties with it.

"So this is your something blue?" he rumbled deeply, turning her to face him, smoothing his hands over the bare curve of her hips, all the way up her back until he reached her bra to unfasten and toss it aside.

"Yes…" she sighed, melting against him as his hands caressed her in long, massaging strokes.

"Men are so lucky. They just need to turn up in whatever." She kissed a path along his collar bone, sliding her hands down his back to squeeze his buttocks.

He gave a soft grunt. "I put on my best whatever for you. It was new too."

She drew back, looking at him, sultry and teasing, as her hands moved round between them to unfasten his pants.

"Livvie…" He leaned in, nipping her lips gently. making her chuckle; then gasp, when he hoisted her up in his arms and carried her to bed.

Laying her down gently, he unzipped his pants, then laughed when she pulled him down to her impatiently; peppering him with kisses, as she used her hands, thighs and feet to slide the last of his clothes off and get him completely naked.

He drew back slightly, sliding his arms around her as he lay there, watching her face until she touched fingertips to his jaw and whispered,

"What?"

The smile in his eyes spread slowly over his lips, making her laugh and she grabbed his face, pulling him down for a kiss.

* * *

Sally Langston scowled at the big screen TV in her living room in Georgia. "I cannot believe people are _celebrating_ this marriage."

"Celebrating the marriage and Presidency of Fitzgerald Grant the Third," Daniel said mildly, flipping a page on his magazine.

"This is a disgrace! To have all my hard work destroyed by two hedonists who mock the sanctity of marriage! They embrace the ills and none of the goodness of this great nation of ours! The office of the President shall not defiled in this manner! I will not have it!"

Daniel tossed the magazine aside and got to his feet. "I believe we should get ready for the Grant Valentine's Day Dinner."

"We are not going to that… that...that _orgy_! I have already sent Fitzgerald my apologies!" Sally Langston glared at her husband.

"You may have sent your apologies, Sally, but you haven't sent mine," Daniel Douglas smiled. "I don't recall the last time we celebrated Valentine's Day as a couple. It's time you and I refreshed our memory."

"Daniel Douglas Langston, will you listen to me! We are not going to that dinner, unless it is Fitzgerald Grant's last supper!"

"Then you better let Air Force Two know that we will be returning to DC tonight."

* * *

"Sir, Sodom and Gomorrah have decided to attend the dinner after all."

"What are you talking about, Cy?" Fitz muttered into the phone, as he lazily traced circles on Olivia's bare back.

"I have just got word that Sally and Daniel Douglas Langston are able to make our little soiree after all. Shall I get a priest in to do an exorcism? Or just ask the guards to barricade the gates?"

Fitz groaned softly, prompting Olivia to lift her head off his chest and look at him.

"Sally," he mouthed, then to Cyrus he added, "We can put them on the same table as Olivia's late arrivals, Sarah Stanner and her husband Phil."

"Ah, yes, with the outcasts. I like that."

"What did he say," Olivia asked curiously as Fitz ended the call with a chuckle.

"He's putting Sally on the table with your outcasts."

"Fitz, you promised to be nice to Sarah."

"Mmm." He gave her a soft look, gathering her closer in his arms. "I will."

"So Sally will be here tonight?" Olivia mumbled against his teasing lips.

"Yes. Guess her family emergency wasn't that much of an emergency."

She drew back. "Then we should get dressed… if Sally's coming."

He gusted a laugh. "Yeah… for only that reason."

"And because Felicia will be here with her troupe of makeover experts," Olivia scrunched her nose.

He raised a brow. "You don't need a makeover."

"Have you met Felicia? Woman who wears colours; thinks I'm bland?"

"You're beautiful even when you're bland."

She laughed, kissing him. "You're good to have around."

"Glad you realise that, Mrs Grant."

* * *

An hour later, Olivia was standing in her bathrobe glaring at Felicia.

"I am not going down to dinner in my natural hair!"

Felicia folded her arms across her chest and said firmly, "Olivia, I let you have your own way at your wedding ceremony – that was your moment. But now, you are introducing your brand as the First Lady. Not to your friends and family who love you, but to people who will judge you."

Olivia took a breath, then said evenly, "Okay, you need to get a few things straight, Felicia. One – you didn't _let_ me do anything. I am a grown woman and what I do is of _my_ own choosing; you are _not_ my caretaker."

"That wasn't what I meant," Felicia waved her words aside as if they were pesky flies. "I'm someone who has worked with image and I know how to present it. That's my forte – pictures, not words. Words are what you're good at, Olivia."

Olivia ignored the interruption. "Two – I am not a product. I don't have a _brand_. I married Fitz because I love him and he loves me. Three – I am not some naïve child who walked into the White House with my eyes wide shut. I know these people. I have worked with these people. I was even part of this administration at one time. So I know how to _present_ myself to these people – and I will be doing that as _myself_! "

"You may know these people as Olivia Pope, the crisis manager, with your power suits and white woman hair. And they see you as the typical corporate woman, a little tanned but acceptable," Felicia said coldly, "But you are not a crisis manager now, Olivia. You are First Lady, a wife and a mother, but more than that you are a _black _woman. Own it! Be the black woman who faced down those punks in white hoods; the black woman who made us proud you were speaking _for_ us! Be proud of your heritage! Show the world who _you _are! "

Felicia's ringing words faded into silence, then Alisa the make-up artist cleared here throat. "Excuse me, ladies, do you need a moment to decide where y'all are at, in Black History Month?"

Tia, the hair stylist glanced at Alisa. "They're going to need more than a moment. Where they at, is some other kind of history."

When Olivia and Felicia looked at Tia, she shrugged. "I'm just saying ." Then added, "Not that I mind waiting and all, but is this going to take long? Because my babysitter needs to be home by a certain time."

Felicia looked back at Olivia,

"Fine." Olivia muttered.

* * *

Once she was alone again, Olivia glanced at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the silk taffeta dress.

It wasn't bland. It was bold, just the way Felicia liked it.

Olivia adjusted the off-the-shoulder hand-beaded burgundy top, smoothed her hand over the red satin waistband, down to the bronze column skirt.

Besides her gold wedding ring, the only other pieces of jewellery she wore were gold bar drop earrings, but she didn't want to look at them. Not yet.

She reached for her red satin purse that matched her red satin pumps. And finally glanced at her hair – a loose halo of soft glossy corkscrew curls that fell to her shoulders.

Smoothing out the frown on her brow, she firmed her red-painted lips and turned away from the mirror, to go in search of Fitz and the kids.

She found them in Jerry's room with everyone crowding around the computer.

As she entered, they all turned around and for a long moment, no one spoke. Then Jerry breathed, "Wow, Mom, you look awesome."

"Da Bomb," Peter added, prompting a look from Jerry.

"Da Bomb?"

"Yeah, that's what Harrison said – Aunt Liv is Da Bomb, Da Bawz and Da Badass."

"You look beautiful, Mommy," Karen said, then asked shyly, "Is it okay for me to give you a hug?"

"Always, Baby K," Olivia grinned, holding out her arms.

Karen sprang into them, hugging her tightly. Then looking at Olivia's hair, she said, "Can I have my hair like that?"

Olivia chuckled, buzzing a kiss on her cheek. "I can ask Tia to curl it the next time she comes over and does my hair. Okay?"

Karen nodded, touching a curl with a fingertip.

The only person who hadn't spoken was Fitz, but then he hadn't stopped staring at her from the moment she'd walked in either.

"Ready to go?" Olivia tilted her head in query, setting Karen back on her feet.

"Not yet!" Jerry said. "Hey, Pete, take a picture of Mom and me."

"Me too!" Karen snuck in between them.

Then it was Peter's turn.

"Dad?" Jerry turned to Fitz.

Without a word, Fitz moved towards Olivia, his gaze unwavering as he slid his arms around her and brought her close; then unexpectedly nuzzled his face into her hair with a soft groan.

"Fitz," Olivia said huskily, feeling a hot blush, that was a heady mix of arousal, pleasure and embarrassment, all the way down to her toes. "The kids…"

Still keeping his arms around her, he glanced around. Then his chuckle joined Olivia's giggle at the sight of Jerry holding one hand over Karen's eyes, and the other over Peter's, while his own were screwed shut.

"Is it safe to look?" Jerry asked. "Has Dad got his sex face under control?"

"Shut up, Jer," Fitz leaned his head against Olivia's with a smile. "And take your picture."

* * *

"You have to stop doing that?" Olivia whispered to Fitz, as they walked down the red carpet towards the East Room.

"What?'

"Staring at me."

"Then you shouldn't have worn your hair like that. I've got an image of you wet and naked, while we make out in the shower, stuck in my mind," he whispered, his lips tickling her ear.

"You are a very bad man," she said, flushing hotly, trying to take a step away from him, but his arm around her waist stopped her.

"I can be worse. Let's go find the nearest closet."

"Fitz!" Olivia protested, but lifted her face when he lowered his head and teased her lips with a smiling kiss.

Then the doors opened to the room, revealing members of the US Cabinet already gathered there – with the men wearing red glittering top hats, and the women wearing red dresses and all of them holding red heart-shaped balloons.

As Fitz and Olivia entered, the band struck up a tune and everyone started singing '_Can't Help Falling In Love With You_' .

After a momentary pause, a smiling Fitz turned a blushing Olivia into his arms for a slow waltz; then a not- so-slow waltz, as the unexpected choristers continued with '_You are the Sunshine of My Life'. _

At the end of that song, the balloons were released towards the roof. And there were cheers and clapping, as Fitz and Olivia were surrounded by hugs and kisses. Then champagne bottles popped, and champagne flutes were passed around and toasts were made to the happy couple.

Fitz joked with his executive staff. "I didn't know you guys could carry a tune that well."

"We've been practising for nearly a month!"

"Wow, and you all managed to keep it a secret."

"Yeah, funny that. But we kept our enemy spies entertained by finding novel ways to sneak into each others' homes."

"Don't forget the garage."

"And the boat house."

"Or the Pentagon chief's office."

There was laughter.

Then the other guests started to arrive. Including the other cabinet-level staff, the first of whom were Cyrus and James.

"Ah, our two lovebirds!" Cyrus gave them a hug, followed by a loud kiss on each of their cheeks. "Great job! Just great! Just keep it coming! Keep-it-coming! Now where's the champagne?" He strolled off, rubbing his hands together.

"Who was that?" Fitz gaped at Cyrus' departing back.

"Did you give him something?" Olivia asked James. "And whatever it was, can you give us a supply?"

"He's been talking to the pollsters. There's been a sharp spike in approval ratings. The news stations have been playing the wedding ceremony on a loop, people are still having Valentine's Day Presidential parties across the country and just about everyone that anyone talks to, is in love with the First Couple and the First Family, even the First Dogs." James beamed. "So can I pay you to keep getting married every second week? Because my husband sang in the shower today, and you know I didn't think that would happen until Sally Langston was sent on a one way ticket to Mars."

Fitz chuckled. "We'll see what we can do."

* * *

"You look amazing," Sarah Stanner said, when the guests were circulating while cocktails were being served.

"The curls?" Olivia laughed as they drifted towards a quiet corner of the room.

"The happiness." Sarah glanced at Fitz, talking with her husband Phil a little distance away. "I'm glad things worked out better for you than it did for me."

Olivia tilted her head. "But you and Phil are together. And business is doing great, you were on last year's Forbes list of 50 most influential business leaders."

Sarah inched Olivia further out of earshot. "We're working on it, being a family. That's why we couldn't make it this morning. The kids didn't want to come. And Phil…" Sarah paused, giving a wry shrug. "I feel like signing an affidavit, that I'm not having an affair every time I work late or travel on business."

"Are you seeing Murray Randall?"

Sarah shook her head. "No."

"Do you want to see him?"

"No." Sarah looked at Olivia. "I cost him a Supreme Court Judgeship, and… I want to be with Phil, and my kids." She paused before adding, "You know I hated your husband's administration for a long time for what they did to me - slut-shaming me in the media. I get that politics is vicious, almost as vicious as corporate America, but the way these people made me look in order to protect Murray, made me bitter."

"But you've been donating to my husband's campaign," Olivia gave a quizzical smile. "Very generously."

"He defended you against his crazy wife on national television. He put his whole future on the line to be the first President to get a divorce so he could marry you." Sarah Stanner gave a wobbly smile. "He fought for you, Olivia. Fought for you in a way that no man has ever fought for me. It's nice when men say they love you with more than just words… Or sex."

Olivia reached out and gripped Sarah's hand. "That time I was helping you, Fitz and I weren't in a good place. I didn't think we would make it. Or that I had a right to even dream we could. But here we are." She tightened her grip on Sarah's hand. "You are a strong woman. People sometimes take your strength for granted."

"You didn't. You stood in my corner when I had no one."

"I was just doing my job."

"No, I know people who just do their jobs. You don't work like them."

"It must have been the wine," Olivia teased. "No one else has popped open a $300 bottle of wine, like they're giving me a beer, to tell me their problems."

Sarah smiled. "I've restocked my supply. I think we need to have another girls' night in, without the paparazzi."

"Oh definitely, without them!"

* * *

"What was that about?" Fitz murmured, when Sarah and Phil Stanner moved away to join another group.

"I was setting up a wine date with one of my husband's campaign donors," Olivia leaned into the familiar weight of his arm curved around her waist.

"Your husband, huh?"

"My husband."

"I like when you say that. Almost as much I like imagining my wife naked."

Olivia elbowed him, laughing. "Stop it!"

He grinned at her, then murmured, "So that's the woman who cost me Murray Randall."

"No, that's the woman who almost lost her job, her family and her dignity because she found comfort with another man, when her own marriage was going through a rocky time. Cyrus nearly destroyed everything she had, because you wanted to protect Murray Randall's reputation."

"You helped her."

"I helped her when she needed me to. You should be able to relate to that. In more ways than one."

Fitz raised a brow. "Are we having a fight?"

"We are," she smiled at him, batting her lashes.

He chuckled softly. "Can we go back to the part where you were calling me 'your husband' and I was imagining you naked."

Olivia elbowed him again. "That part?"

He grunted. "You don't play nice when you're mad, my darling wife."

"Neither do you."

"Mm," Fitz gave a soft chuckle, leaning in for a kiss but stopped when a voice said happily,

"Ah, my two lovebirds at it again."

Olivia and Fitz drew apart to see Cyrus smiling beatifically. "Oh, don't let me interrupt."

When they continued to stare at him, he said blithely, "Well, now that I have interrupted, a little birdy told me that Sally and Daniel will be delayed. I'm hoping for the entire night, but you I don't want to be greedy, when I have been given so much tonight. As you were!" He patted their arms, and went off in search of James.

"Should we start worrying?" Fitz muttered.

Olivia giggled, linking her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Well now, I know it's Valentine's and all, but you might want to limit your PDAs as a kindness to those of us, challenged by cupid's arrow, that darned cherub has done a piss poor job of finding my Southern Comfort ass as his target."

Olivia and Fitz turned to find Hollis Doyle grinning at them.

"Hollis Doyle, how lovely to see you." Olivia smiled.

"You didn't bring a date?" Fitz raised a brow.

"No, I'm trying to lose some weight in the ball and chain department." Hollis smiled. "But enough about me. Where are my manners? Congratulations, Mr President and our new and improved First Lady, Mrs Olivia Grant."

"Thank you," Olivia glanced at Fitz as Hollis grabbed her by the arms and gave her an enthusiastic kiss on each cheek.

Then taking Fitz's hand in a gripping handshake, he grinned, "Now this is what I call progress when we can have our little secret power meetings out in the open, at a grand gala no less! Instead of skulking in the White House kitchen. And with a leaner, meaner team!"

"We could invite Sally Langston to join the team." Fitz muttered easing his hand out of Hollis' grasp.

"Oh, now there's no fun sneaking around, if all your hos come home to roost," Hollis chuckled as he sauntered away.

"Did he just call me a ho?" Fitz asked.

"I think he did," Olivia bit back a grin.

* * *

Olivia had just come off the dance floor with the Secretary of Agriculture and was making her way to the Ladies', when a Secret Service agent approached.

"Ma'am, please come with me."

"What? Why? What's happened?" Olivia's gaze swiftly swept across the room, but her pulse calmed when she spotted Fitz talking to a group of senior staff by the cupid ice sculpture.

"Ma'am, Mr Daniel Langston would like to have a word with you."

"Daniel? They're here? I didn't see Sally Langston and her husband arrive."

"They haven't arrived as such, ma'am," the agent said, directing her downstairs to the ground floor. "Mr Langston is in the car, parked at the entrance."

With a puzzled frown, Olivia followed the agent to the waiting limousine, flying the flag of the vice president on the hood.

After the agent opened the rear passenger door, she peered in to see Daniel Langston in a Tuxedo and winter coat.

"Daniel? What's wrong?"

"Olivia, please come in and shut that door behind you. The snow and wind is getting inside the car."

Olivia stepped in and took the seat opposite. "Daniel, what—?" She paused abruptly, her eyes widening, as the car started moving.

"We're going for a little drive," Daniel Douglas Langston smiled at Olivia.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, short note… Or I won't post this story! **

**THANK YOU for the lovely commentary about the wedding – part one that is! **

**I thought Part Two needed something scandalous happening, and Sarah Stanner needed to make a bit more than a short appearance! And talking about natural hair - that was inspired by Lupita Nyong'o's Essence 'beauty' speech, and because I always felt that is how Felicia would roll! **

**Let me know what you think… **


	23. Knights Like These

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Where are we going, Daniel?" Olivia folded her arms across her chest.

"Isn't that a shame, I forgot to bring an extra jacket," Daniel Douglas Langston adjusted his coat and smiled at her. "But you won't be needing one, where you're going."

"Where am I going?"

"_We_, Olivia, we are going for a little drive. The destination is for me to know. I don't want to spoil the surprise. Now don't look at me like that, you're quite safe… For now."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's an assurance, Olivia."

"Where's Sally?"

"Sally is in Georgia. She didn't want to be here. The official line is that your wedding offends her moral right-wing dignity. She is upset that Fitz fell in love with a woman who was not his wife, then had the audacity to marry the woman he has publicly called the love of his life. My wife has never understood the depth of such emotion. She has never loved or been loved like that, by a mortal man, which is why she has turned to God. To bless us all."

Olivia glanced away from Daniel's smirk and murmured, "You said that was the official line, what's the unofficial one?"

Daniel Douglas gave her a considering look. "There are a lot of people who don't like to mix their coloureds with their whites."

Olivia narrowed her gaze. "And you have gone out of your way to show yourself as one of these laundry freaks."

Daniel smiled. "Ah, you remember that conversation we had, soon after Fitz threw Sally a lifeline into the White House four years ago. You shouldn't hold that against me; I am a product of my white, privileged upbringing. My family made our money from the sweat of slaves, we still do. Although now I believe the technical term is 'illegals'. But I have nothing against you personally, Olivia. I actually like you."

"Didn't you call me your token black acquaintance?"

"I did and I also said that it's good to have at least one, to name-drop in Washington. It makes me look progressive and liberal."

"I have noticed that you turn up the nasty whenever Sally's around. You're her talking puppet, saying what she can't or won't say in public."

"Now that is why I like you, Olivia. You always see past the bullshit. You see past the act of me being a happily married man, who likes to shoot little wild animals for pleasure, and agrees with my wife's politics."

Olivia unfolded her arms and clasped her hands together. "So why did you kidnap me?"

"I didn't kidnap you. I invited you into the car and you came of your own free will."

"Are we going Number One Observatory Circle?"

"No."

* * *

The reason for his growing uneasiness slowly filtered into Fitz's brain in mid-conversation. He paused, realising he had missed seeing a shadow of bronze and red in the periphery of his vision. Excusing himself from the group around him, he scanned the room, confirming she wasn't there.

Then seeing Cyrus and James on the dance floor, waltzing to a duet of '_When I fall in love'_, sung by Tony Bennet and Norah Jones, accompanied by the Marine Band; Fitz walked up and tapped Cyrus on the shoulder.

"Have you seen Olivia?"

"No," Cyrus said. "Don't tell me you've lost her already?"

James interrupted, "I saw her leave with a man. He looked like a Secret Service Agent."

"What? Where did she go?" Fitz looked around, then catching sight of Tom hovering on the edge of the dance floor, he waved him over.

"Sir?" Tom stopped, gazing from Fitz to Cyrus to James, who'd formed a static group in the middle of the dance floor.

"Where's Olivia?"

"She left with an agent on the Vice President's detail, sir."

"One of Sally's agents? But she isn't even here," Fitz looked around. "Where's Olivia's detail?"

"They're following the Vice President's limousine, sir. Mr Daniel Douglas Langston was the sole occupant in the car. We have reports that the Vice President is still at her ranch in Georgia."

"Georgia?" Cyrus frowned. "But Daniel told me they were both on their way here."

Fitz stared at Tom. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I don't know, sir. I just found out where Ms Pope went, in case you asked."

Fitz gave a wry smile, "Thank you, Tom. Now get the head of security down to my office."

A short while later, the head of security discreetly wiped his glistening forehead and cleared his throat, facing Fitz, who was clearly enraged.

"Why didn't anyone stop her? Or get into the car with her? I told you to increase her protection, dammit! Why would your people let my wife leave like that, when you know the crazies are sending her death threats?!"

"With all due respect, sir, you said we were to watch her at a safe distance, allowing Ms – uh – Mrs – uh, the First Lady to do her job. And Ms Pope, uh, Mrs Grant has assisted the Vice President on – uh- a delicate political matter before. We didn't think to question her actions now. And about the other matter, you gave strict instructions that Ms Pope wasn't to know about the hate mail, so she wouldn't know she has to be extra careful."

Fitz stared at the man, then snapped. "Get me a car."

"That's not advisable. Sir."

"Get me a car!"

* * *

Minutes later, Fitz was on the phone to Sally Langston at her home in Georgia.

"Why the fuck has your husband kidnapped my wife?!" he roared.

"Kidnapped your wife?" Sally's spluttered on the other end. "What are you talking about, Fitzgerald?"

"I am talking about my wife, Olivia Pope, being taken from the White House by your husband, Daniel Douglas Langston! What do you know about that?!"

"I don't know anything about that! Daniel has been acting strange. He insisted, _insisted_, on going to the dinner tonight. By himself. He was adamant and I couldn't stop him. I cannot imagine why he's taken Olivia, or why he has done such a thing! I didn't even realise they were friends. Have you called the police? I would recommend that you do not, let the agency handle this—"

Fitz slammed the phone down on Sally, pressing his fist to his mouth; then turned in relief, at the knock on the door when Tom poked his head in to say, "Sir, the car is ready."

* * *

Olivia narrowed her gaze. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want out. I want to stop living a lie, and for that I need to get out of this damned marriage."

"You want to divorce Sally?"

"No, there will be no divorce. For some women, divorce is a fate worse than death."

"I know," Olivia said wearily. "Mellie felt that way about her marriage to Fitz. She thought being married was the be-all and end-all to her existence; the only thing that made her somebody."

"Sally would hate to hear you compare her to that teeth-grinding airhead, and unlike her, my wife does not need matrimony to sustain her. No, Sally wants to keep me shackled to make her more relatable to voters. She wants people to believe that she understands the women of America because she's married, she's a wife and she's a mother. But I'm done with all that. I want out. And I want a permanent solution."

Olivia's eyes widened. "What are you saying, Daniel. You're not talking about… _killing_… Sally?"

"No! I'm not a murderer, Olivia. Recreational hunting has cured me of blood lust. No, I have something else in mind."

"And you want my help?"

"In actual fact, I think you need my help. I know you and Fitz are planning to leave tonight on Air Force One to spend your honeymoon in Vermont. I know this because Sally needs to know where Fitz is, in case of an emergency, but I'm not the only who knows. Your travel plans have been passed onto to people who don't have your safety in mind."

"Why? What's going to happen?"

"I don't know. Something big, that's for sure. Sally was asked to get out of town, and stay out until she can return to the White House as President in the morning."

* * *

Fitz looked out unseeingly at the passing scenery, his fingers tapping on his knee, his jaw tight.

"She'll be fine, sir. I know Mike – the agent that Ms Pope left with. He's okay," Tom said from the front seat of the Presidential Suburban.

Fitz turned away from the window, with a frown. "_He's_ okay?"

"Yes, sir."

Then before Fitz could get clarification on that comment, Tom added, "We're getting word that the Vice President's car is heading for the Potomac River."

"Speed up!"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Someone is trying to kill Fitz?" Olivia gripped her hands together, feeling a cold prickle of alarm feather her spine for the first time that night.

"Don't forget to include yourself in the equation. You need to be careful. You have enemies much closer to home than you think."

"Someone in the administration?"

"You need to widen your perspective. You're not in Kansas any longer, Dorothy. Not everyone around you can be trusted."

"Are you talking about the people I work with at OPA? I don't believe you. I trust them."

"No, I'm not talking about your staff. I'm saying you shouldn't entertain that same level of trust with the people in Fitzgerald Grant's administration. Think of the last man who slept with Melody Grant."

"Hal?"

"Yes, Secret Service Agent Hal Rimbeau. His job was to protect the President. It wasn't to protect you. There are others who may feel the same way, even though you've stepped into Mellie's shoes." Daniel glanced at her. "You walked out of the White House with Mike because he was a Secret Service agent. They inspire an unquestioning trust. That, I believe, is misplaced. You need to ask yourself how many Hals there are in your team."

"But you said people wanted Fitz dead? Are you saying the agents whose job is to protect Fitz are out to kill him?"

"People can be bought, Olivia. Greed is good, remember?"

"Who's behind this?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that Sally has been courting some heavy hitters with deep pockets. These guys are unhappy with the way Fitz has woken up and started being President. They liked him better when you and the dead wife were playing tug-of-war with his dick. Now the man is focused on his job and it's scaring the bejeezus out of the patriarchy."

"But to kill Fitz!" Olivia glanced away, then swung back to face Daniel. "Do they really think Sally will just let them pull her strings?"

"Yes. They don't know my wife, the way you and I do. But even you don't know the half of it. Sally's done things with the limited power and resources she has; things that don't sit well with me. I don't want her to be in a position to legislate misery for others."

"Stop talking in code, what secrets are you hiding?"

"I can't tell you that. Some secrets are better taken to the grave."

"So what am I doing in this car? You could have told Fitz not to fly out to Vermont at the White House? Why bring me here?" Olivia peered out of the window, frowning when she saw a familiar landmark. "Are we heading to the river?"

"The Southwest Waterfront. For a bit of deep sea diving."

* * *

Fitz leaned forward in his seat, "Can this go any faster?"

"No, sir. There are cars in front of us."

"Then use the damned sidewalk!"

The agent driving the vehicle turned to look at Fitz, "You want us to drive on the side-walk. But that's breaking the law, sir. And we'd attract attention."

"I don't care. Just do it!"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Breaking News…

"…_Dramatic scenes from our nation's capital this evening. The President's SUV is seen here breaking the speed limit, on its way to the SouthWest Waterfront of the Potomac River. We have eyewitness reports that the Presidential vehicle went off-road, driving on the city sidewalks, narrowly avoiding pedestrians. We're not sure if the vehicle has been stolen or if the President is inside but as you can see from our Eye-In-The-Sky camera crew, the DC police are giving chase…"_

* * *

Olivia looked at Daniel Douglas Langston with a calm she did not feel. "You are going to drive us all into the river? That's your solution to getting out of a marriage you don't want. Death by drowning?"

"No, Olivia, there are people who want to kill you, and there are people who will want me dead, eventually. Including my wife. I think it's in our best interest to disappear. I have contacts, here and overseas, who can make that happen."

"No." The word was out before Daniel had finished speaking. "No, I'm not going to disappear. I'm not leaving Fitz. It's our wedding day, for goodness sake!"

"Didn't you hear me, Olivia?! Someone is trying to kill the both of you! I'm trying to save your life!"

"And why would you want to do that, Daniel? Why would you want to help me? We barely know each other. I don't know you well enough to trust you in this situation."

"But you trust Senator Lucas Zeke."

"Zeke… he's behind this?"

Daniel Douglas Langston smiled. "So are you in?"

"No! I'm not leaving Fitz!"

"Olivia Pope, you're a fixer but you need to understand that you can't fix this. It's too big. Bigger than you can imagine. The only we will survive, both of us, is if we get out of this mess; leave the country; get ourselves new identities."

"No. I'm not going to do that. I'm can't do that to Fitz. I won't! It would kill him!"

"So would having you around. He's a target, Olivia and so are you. He was shot once and he survived. Do you want to take a chance on another assassination attempt? And this time it won't be a deranged woman trying to give him a lobotomy. This time, the guys who put out the hit will hire professionals; experienced sharp-shooters who won't miss hitting a fly at ten paces."

Olivia glared at him mutinously, a flicker of doubt sparking in her belly, igniting further when he said,

"If you love Fitz, save his life. Leave him."

* * *

Breaking News…

"… _DC Police at the Southwest Waterfront say a limousine flying the Vice President's flag has driven off the pier into the Potomac River_. _The first vehicle to arrive at the scene, minutes after the accident was the Presidential SUV followed by a second unmarked vehicle... two men are seen here running towards the point the vehicle took a dive...N__ow there are others swarming around. Including the DC Police._ Yes folks, this is live. It's happening in real time. You can see one of the men jump as the other tries to hold him back… The second one jumps.. Both of them... More of them, it's hard to see how many are in the river… Wait? What? The President?! No way! We're getting reports that one of the men in the river is the President of the United States. Yes, we have confirmation. The President has jumped into the icy cold waters of the Potomac River…"

* * *

**A/N: Wow, you guys really got onboard the Daniel Douglas cliffhanger! Most number of reviews I've had since the first chapter (after which I went off the rails for about 20 chapters!). **

**Now I know some of you are fond of DD and some of you are fond of Zeke – the bad news is that I'm going to disappoint half of you ;(((**

**And I hate to do that to the half who may already be unhappy after watching the latest episode of Scandal in the US - I've been reading a lot of unhappy reviews along the lines of 'WTF, Shonda!'. And, um, that's a bit like where this story is headed! (The WTF part – not the Shonda part).**

**So sincere apologies to my dear readers who have been through enough shit already, hope you can hang in there for the next chapter, without sending the Huckmonster sans coffee my way!**


	24. Conflicts of Interest

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

As the car accelerated towards the edge of the pier, Olivia heard a bang, followed by the click of the door-lock being released. She quickly made a grab for the door handle as Daniel Douglas made a grab for her.

She kicked at him, trying to get away; managing to throw open the door, just as the car went over.

For a second she was flying, then she hit the water, an instant before the car belly flopped and sank; dragging Olivia in its undertow, down into the dark, freezing water.

Instinctively Olivia held her breath as she spent a moment floating in the darkness, disoriented. Then after the initial shock, her swim habits took over and she used her upper body strength to push against the weight of her dress, restricting the movement of her legs, and headed towards what she hoped was the surface.

Out of nowhere a hand reached out and grabbed her arm.

Startled she gulped a lungful of water, causing her to panic, then hit out blindly as she broke the surface, coughing and spluttering.

"Ma'am, please! I'm trying to get you out!" A hoarse voice shouted, as Olivia continued to hit out.

Olivia stopped fighting long enough to recognise the agent who had walked her out of the White House earlier that night, but with Daniel's words still ringing in her ears, she found sudden strength with a burst of adrenalin and pushed him under, getting the impetus she needed to float out of reach, only to collide with another solid form.

"Olivia!" The desperate cry wrenched out of the man she began hitting, made her still; then burst into tears as her body went slack.

"It's okay, my love. It's okay, I've got you," Fitz gabbled hoarsely, peppering her cold face with kisses as he turned her in his arms, and began dragging her to safety, helped by Tom and several other agents who were in the water with them.

They were hoisted out of the water with Olivia clinging to Fitz and his arms tight around her.

In the chaos that followed, the drenched couple were carried within the huddle of the secret service to a waiting military helicopter where medics were waiting to strip, dry and wrap them in warm blankets before they were given warmed IV fluids and oxygen.

Shivering, her teeth chattering, Olivia stared at Fitz whose gaze was locked on hers. Then a fresh bout of tears blurred her sight and she reached out blindly and grabbed the hand that gripped hers as the helicopter lifted off the ground, with medics and agents on board.

* * *

Breaking News…

"… _A section of the Southwest Waterfront has been cordoned off and traffic is being diverted. We can see more paramedics and disaster recovery crews arriving in the area where the Vice President's car hit the water. We have reports of two survivors, one of them is our First Lady, Olivia Pope, seen here being helped out of the water with President Fitzgerald Grant._

"_We can report that the President and First Lady have been airlifted to hospital on a military helicopter, and initial reports say that they have suffered no serious injuries other than hypothermia. In the meantime, Harbour Police are conducting salvage operations, looking for more survivors. Vice President Sally Langston was not in the car. We have confirmation from the White House, that Mrs Langston is currently flying to DC from her ranch in Georgia…"_

* * *

Shortly after arriving at George Washington University Hospital, Olivia and Fitz were rushed to a private ward where emergency doctors confirmed what the military medics had advised – other than shock and exposure, both the President and the First Lady were fine, in that order.

"But we will need to keep you under observation for 72 hours just to make sure everything stays fine," said the doctor, then turning to Olivia she added, "You are one very lucky First Lady, Mrs Grant. Most people would have suffered spinal injuries or at the very least cardiac arrest on impact with that freezing river."

"Olivia was on the swim team in high school," Fitz murmured from the bed next to hers. "She's an excellent swimmer."

Olivia smiled, her gaze never leaving his. "And I used to go winter swimming with some of my friends. So I guess that helped."

The doctor cleared her throat. "All I can say is that it's a miracle you came out of that with only your party dress destroyed."

"Don't I know it," Olivia said softly, seeing Fitz's jaw clench.

Then they had visitors.

The kids arrived first with Rowan and Felicia. They were subdued as they shuffled into the room, but perked up at the sight of Fitz seated next to Olivia, his saline drip-stand next to hers beside the bed.

It was difficult to say who moved first, Olivia and Fitz trying to get off the bed or the kids who rushed forward but suddenly they were all squished together in a group hug.

"Are you okay?" Jerry mumbled, his face pressed against them.

"We're fine." Fitz said huskily, holding on tight, leaning down to kiss the top of Jerry's curls, then over to kiss Olivia who was blinking back tears.

"Are you coming home?" Karen's voice floated up through the huddle of bodies.

"In a couple of days. They want to make sure we don't have any delayed complications."

"So was Aunt Liv kidnapped?" Peter asked.

Olivia and Fitz exchanged a glance. Then Olivia said in a hoarse voice, "It's complicated."

"The police chief is outside, along with Cyrus and a couple of other people," said Rowan from the background, reminding them all of his presence.

Fitz drew the kids away to sit on his bed, while Olivia approached her father. "Dad."

Her father's stern face softened around the edges, as he reached up to touch her cheek and grip her shoulder before letting his hand fall back slowly to his side. After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, "Is this what you signed up for, Olivia?"

Before Olivia could react, Felicia stepped closer. "Rowan, don't start. Not now." Then turning to Olivia, she murmured, "You should rest. It's late and the kids need to be in bed. We'll come back in the morning."

"Can't we stay?" Karen asked, clinging to Fitz like a limpet.

Fitz stroked a hand over her hair. "Teddy needs to see you at breakfast. You need to tell him we're okay, pumpkin."

"Daddy, Teddy is too little to understand what's going on. Besides Marta won't let me see him until he's finished eating his icky fruit poop."

"Come on, Kaz, we should go." Peter tugged her arm. "We can't stay here. There aren't enough beds."

"Yeah, Mom and Dad need to rest," Jerry muttered, then stopped long enough to give them both one last hug.

"Yes, Olivia needs to recover from a wedding, a kidnapping and a near drowning all in one day. Not to mention a honeymoon in hospital. All for the price of being a Grant."

"Dad…" Olivia said in warning, seeing Jerry's stricken face and Karen's lips begin to pucker.

"Nothing happened. We're okay," she assured the kids, leaning over to pull them both into another hug. "And we'll be here in the morning. Waiting impatiently until you come back."

* * *

After their family exited the room, Fitz circled a gentle arm around Olivia's waist, pulling her close against him.

Instantly she turned, tears welling as she pressed her face against his throat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," she choked, then blurted in a rush, "Daniel said someone's trying to kill you, kill us. He said we shouldn't go to Vermont. That someone had told Sally to stay out of DC, until she could return to the White House as President, this morning!"

Fitz could only stand in silence as the torrent of words hit him like rocks.

"He said we shouldn't trust the Secret Service, and that basically we couldn't trust anybody." Olivia drew back and looked at Fitz. "He said he was working with Zeke to get me to leave you."

Fitz lifted a hand and wiped away her tears with unsteady fingers, querying huskily, "He wanted you to leave me?"

"Yes. He said it was the only way to keep us both safe. The only way we could survive."

Fitz stared at her, continuing to wipe her tears, then he said on a deep, uneven breath. "I'm going to ask Cyrus and the guys to come in here. Will you be okay with that?"

"Yes," she nodded, relieved that Fitz wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Cyrus came in first, followed by the Counsel to the President, the DC Police chief, and directors of the FBI and Homeland Security.

They paused, seeing Fitz seated on the bed beside Olivia, holding her hand.

"Sir, are you okay?" Cyrus asked formally, but his face was marred by a worried frown. "Liv?"

Fitz gripped Olivia's hand. "We're fine, Cy, but Olivia and I will be under observation for at least another couple of days. How's Tom?"

"Tom's okay. The others are still being checked out. They're still in ICU."

The Police chief rocked on his heels. "We have recovered the body of the agent who was driving the car. It's a homicide, the man was shot in the head."

"I heard a shot, just before we went into the water. There was a shot, then the door lock was released," Olivia recalled, as Fitz stared at her unblinking.

"I see," said the police chief gravely. "We'll have more questions for the agent in the front passenger seat, once the doctors are done with him."

"What about Daniel Langston?" Fitz asked grimly. "Have you found him?"

"We're still searching, but we don't hold much hope of finding him alive."

"Sir," The legal counsel to the President spoke up, "The Cabinet is waiting in the Situation Room, and Vice President Sally Langston is flying back from Georgia tonight. She'll be taking over the reins until you're back in the saddle, uh, until you're discharged, sir. The White House Counsel has prepared the transfer of presidential powers under the 25th Amendment."

Fitz looked at Olivia, giving a wry smirk. "So she gets her wish one way for another."

"For a couple of days," Cyrus assured, while the men beside him glanced at each other, then glanced away.

Fitz glanced at the directors of the FBI and Homeland Security. "I need to have a word in private. And Cy, can you organise to have Tom moved to a private room. I need to speak to him. Oh, and call Zeke at his hotel, I need to see him."

"Now?"

"Now."

* * *

Once the others had left the room, Fitz told the intelligence chiefs in confidence that he needed the bomb squad to check Marine One. "And we need a similar check on our house in Vermont. If you find anything, let me know. This has to be done on a need-to-know basis, and for the moment the less people who know the better."

As the two men left, Cyrus entered with Tom wearing hospital scrubs.

"He insisted on being here," said Cyrus.

"Sir, Mr Beene said you wanted to see me and it's easier for me to get around, than for the guys to make sure you're safe walking around this hospital."

"Cy, can we have a moment?"

Cyrus looked from one to the other, then he muttered, "I'll call Zeke."

After Cyrus left the room, Fitz looked at Tom. "In the car, you said 'Mike's okay'. What's going on? Do you know anything about what happened tonight, why Daniel Langston took Olivia?"

Tom glanced at Olivia. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Tom," Then after a pause, she said, "Daniel said there were agents we shouldn't trust."

Tom's gaze flickered towards the door, where the agents on duty could be seen through the glass panel.

That action prompted Fitz to snap, "Tom, answer the question, dammit!"

In a milder tone, Olivia said, "Tom, you are authorised by US Code title 18, section 3056 to protect the President and his immediate family."

"And the Vice President, ma'am."

Fitz frowned. "Are you saying there's a conflict of interest between my safety and that of Sally Langston?"

"No, sir. I'm just pointing out that not every agent on the Secret Service Protective Mission looks after the President," He shifted his gaze from Fitz to Olivia then back again. "And as agents, we take an oath to support and defend the United States Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic."

"So I'm an enemy now?" Fitz quizzed, with a confused frown.

"Not exactly an enemy, sir, but it looks like you're attacking the Constitution."

"Wait, is this is about the Second Amendment?" Olivia inserted, sitting forward.

"Yes, ma'am. Some of the guys feel the President's push towards gun control is an attack on the fundamental principles of our job. They feel Mrs Langston's goals are more aligned with their ability to faithfully discharge their duties. That's the conflict of interest."

Olivia glanced at Fitz, sliding her arm through his. He stared at her hand, then asked wearily, "You said 'some of us' – do you feel conflicted too?"

"No, sir. And neither does Mike."

"But others feel 'conflicted'?"

"Yes, sir."

"Conflicted enough to want Olivia and me dead?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir. But some would take a bullet for you. Others may hesitate."

Fitz looked up at Tom, then sighed, "Thank you, Tom. Please go back to your room and rest."

"Thank you, sir. And sir, I'm glad you and the First Lady are okay."

"Me too."

* * *

"This is my fault. I put you in danger, Livvie," Fitz murmured after Tom had left.

Olivia scooted closer. "You didn't. This isn't your fault. None of it." She placed fierce little kisses along the side of his face, running her fingers through his tangled hair. Then stilled as their lips touched.

For a long moment, neither of them moved then he whispered against her lips, "This iceberg is beginning to look like Antarctica."

She drew back stroking his cheek, then turned as the door opened and a nurse walked in followed by a couple of agents.

"Don't mind me," the nurse smiled. "I'm just here to do check on your vitals - temp, pressure, reflexes. And if we could have the President pop back on his bed for just a few moments until I can see to the First Lady. Then it'll be your turn, sir."

"The President goes first," one of the agents said. "It's protocol."

"Not on my watch he doesn't, and I follow patient protocol at this hospital, not White House protocol." The woman kept her smile intact. "Now if you gentlemen can step back, I can do my job and we can all get out of each other's hair."

The agents didn't budge, until Fitz cleared his throat. Then as they took a step back, the nurse gave them a smile of saccharine sweetness. "Why, thank you. Really appreciate the effort."

* * *

The nurse was just finishing up, when Cyrus walked in to say Olivia's associates had arrived, and were creating a ruckus in the visitor's lounge because the Secret Service wouldn't let them through.

"Shall I call the National Guard to have them evicted? And deported? Oh, and Zeke is here."

Then after the nurse and the agents left the room, Cyrus drew close and muttered, "Is there anyone else you'd like to see? I'm just asking because the nurses are complaining that we're turning this place into Grand Central Terminal, outside visiting hours. And unless you can sign an executive order to get them all fired, I think we all need to call it a night."

* * *

A few minutes later Fitz walked into the private sitting room in his hospital gown, dragging the mobile drip; followed by a handful of agents who positioned themselves by the door and the windows.

Senator Lucas Zeke got to their feet.

"How is she?"

"Safe," Fitz said shortly, looking at the man he'd known for three decades. "How well do you know Daniel Douglas Langston?"

Zeke raised a brow over his good eye. "What? Are you accusing me of something?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just asking a question. How well do you know Daniel Douglas Langston?" Fitz repeated.

"If you're going to use that tone with me, you should read me my rights. Sir."

"Langston mentioned your name to Liv before they hit the water."

"And that's all it took? Some over-privileged redneck makes an accusation and you forget we're friends?"

"What am I to think – I nearly lost my wife tonight."

"And that's your excuse for going all 'Big Gerry' on me? Listen, ace, I'll cut you some slack because you're going through some PTSD-shit, but you need to know that I love Olivia like a sister. Hell, I might even consider going straight for her, and that should tell you where I stand on the issue of her safety."

Fitz sat on the couch, his shoulders slumped. "I'm just… I want to know why the fuck this happened."

Zeke sat down beside him. After a long pause, he said, "I've been investigating Langston."

"What?"

"Langston made a lot of friends in high places when his wife was Governor, including the Federal Prosecutor's Office. I suspected he took the hit out on US Attorney Patrick Dent."

"Fuck you, Zeke! Why didn't you tell me!"

"Listen, asshole, I mean Mr President, Dent's no loss to the human race. And I wasn't going to accuse the second-highest ranked officer in your administration of being connected to the murder of a federal employee. I would have stopped right there but my investigations turned up something else."

"What?"

Zeke glanced at the agents dotting the room.

Picking up his unspoken hint, Fitz raised his voice, "Guys, we need the room."

The agents glanced at each other, then headed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

Zeke leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Langston's current lover is in the Secret Service. They've been seeing each other since the guy started working for his wife."

"There have been rumours about the Langston marriage, but no one's been able to prove anything."

"Yeah, that's because Langston's smart – he picks guys who have more to hide than he does. This time he went a step further and picked a man who is sworn to secrecy, and is part of a brotherhood of solidarity – they watch each other's backs, not just yours."

"And you think that's why he tried to kill Olivia? Because he thought he was going to be outed?"

"Hell, I wasn't going to out the guy for being gay. No, he and his lover are running a prostitution ring within the Secret Service."

"Fuck, Zeke, when were you going to tell me all this?"

"After the wedding. I didn't want to ruin your big day." Zeke exchanged a wry glance with Fitz. "So now what?"

* * *

"This is why you should never marry a Republican!" Abby glared at Olivia. "They have no idea how to keep anyone safe!"

"Don't yell at her, she's in hospital!" Quinn glared at Abby.

"Yeah, we need to have this conversation at a more appropriate time, like never," Harrison muttered.

"But Olivia's needs better security. Nobody drove her into the river when I was looking out for her," Huck said grimly.

"And who the fuck is Daniel Langston?" Abby snapped.

"The Vice President's husband. She doesn't listen to anything I tell her." Quinn looked at Olivia and rolled her eyes.

"Why was he trying to kill you, Liv?" Harrison asked.

"Is the wife behind this?" Huck glowered.

Olivia shook her head. "I don't know. All I know is that Daniel Langston wanted me to leave Fitz. He said that was the only way both of us could stay alive."

There was a silence then Abby muttered, "He wanted you to leave the President?"

"On your wedding day?"

"If he wanted you to stay alive, what's with the night-swim? You could have drowned!"

"Or died of hypothermia. Or had a heart attack."

"I don't know. I was blind-sided. I was worried about Fitz."

"Fitz!" Abby spat. "He's the reason you're in hospital!"

"No!" Olivia shouted suddenly. "Don't say that! Don't ever say that! He's beating himself up about this and I don't need you to dump more guilt on him!"

Abby opened her mouth, then after a warning glance from Harrison, she closed it again. "Fine, I won't tell that jackass he sucks at his job protecting you."

They fell silent, then Harrison said slowly, "We need to look into this."

"And you need to come back to OPA," Abby muttered.

"We're better at looking after you," Huck agreed.

"And our clients maybe crazy, but they're not crazy enough to want you dead," Quinn added.

* * *

When Fitz returned to the room, Olivia was alone, sitting up in bed, waiting for him.

"Hi," he said softly, closing the door behind him.

"Hi," she smiled.

He approached the bed, pulling the drip stand with him, and she shifted so he could settle in beside her.

"This is not how I wanted our wedding day to end," he murmured, slipping his arms around her, pressing his lips to her forehead.

She snuffled a laugh. "Oh, I don't know. It's kind of nice at the Honeymoon Hospital, we get room service and a sassy nurse for entertainment."

He chuckled, tightening his arms around her. "You feeling okay?"

"Perfectly fine," she smiled against his neck. "How did it go with Zeke?"

"He's not in with Langston."

"So Daniel was doing a head trip on me? That makes sense."

Fitz stroked a hand over her back. "How did it go with your guys?"

"Um, okay. I think they'll be doing some digging around on their own."

"Good, one way or another, I want to know what the hell happened today and why."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, okay I see you want to KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT and enough of this finger-biting, edge of the seat; peeing in pants, 84 years of waiting! Sorry, but you have to know the output speed of this story is limited by my brain power – think slug on hamster wheel (that's my pace at the moment).**

**This chapter sort of is half way to what-the-hell-happened but I didn't want to leave you guys with another cliffhanger – you need a five minute break. Or a three-day one, the way I'm writing these days.**

**So Daniel Douglas has disappeared – hmm…**

**And the Secret Service stuff was inspired by actual reported events – **

**1) Ex-secret service agent Dan Bongino who apparently doesn't agree with President Obama's gun control initiatives. He ran and failed to win a US Congress Senate seat in Maryland in 2013, but apparently he's gaining popularity with pro-gun enthusiasts.**

**2) Around twelve US Secret Service agents were caught up in a scandal involving prostitutes in Colombia in 2012. According to news reports, the incident became public after an agent and prostitute fought over payment, and a full-scale investigation was done into the Secret Service. You can read more about the report findings in **_**Secret Service Report Reveals No Evidence Of Widespread Problems**_** by Alicia A Caldwell, published in Huffington Post on Dec 20, 2013.  
**

**And the cold water immersion stuff was misappropriated from **_**Cold Water Survival**_** from the US Search and Rescue Task Force website and **_**Drowning/Submersion Injury**_** on EMS village DOT com website, written by Kevin High.**

**Also I should say I have no idea who gets called in an emergency - the few job titles listed here, I got from reading about the Assassination of Ronald Reagan on Wikipedia - if you get a chance read it. Seriously, it's hilarious! Keystone cops hilarious! **


	25. Brinkmanship

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm **

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Driving back from the hospital, Harrison said, "Looks our new client is the boss lady, Olivia Pope."

"Olivia Pope Grant." Quinn corrected, "The First Lady."

"Yeah, the First Lady kidnapped and almost drowned by the Second Husband," muttered Huck.

"He's a nutjob!" Abby said.

"He's a nutjob from Georgia," said Harrison.

"Where Olivia attended the gun case, representing the President," said Huck.

"And the US attorney got shot after the verdict. Patrick Dent. This must have something to do with him," Quinn said.

"Must everything be a conspiracy theory with you?" Abby asked impatiently.

"Yes. Life's more interesting that way," Quinn said.

"Look, we need to know if Dent's connected to Langston," said Harrison.

"We need to go to Georgia," said Abby.

"Why can't we just ask Zeke?" said Quinn. "Anyone know where he's staying?"

"I do," said Huck.

* * *

Senator Lucas Zeke arrived at his hotel suite to find Olivia Pope's associates watching the news with Oscar.

"Well, now it's nice you guys came over for a slumber party but I'm going to need my beauty sleep."

"They're here about Dent," said Oscar.

"What about Dent?" Zeke removed his coat and scarf, placing them on the back of a couch.

"That's what we want to know," said Abby.

"Is he connected to Daniel Douglas Langston?" asked Huck.

"Did his death having anything to do with what happened today?" asked Quinn.

"Whoa! Calm down, I'd like twenty questions fired at me after I've had a chance to sit down!" Zeke collapsed onto an easy chair.

Harrison sat forward, glancing at the television footage of the rescue teams still in action on the waterfront. "The agent driving has been found dead, and the other one is under police guard at the hospital. This isn't a bad weather accident."

"Of course, it isn't," said Abby. "Liv wouldn't just take off in the middle of her wedding reception to take a drive down to the waterfront!"

"Without a coat," muttered Quinn.

"Or telling the President where she was going," added Huck.

Zeke glanced at Oscar, then focused on OPA. "Daniel Langston is the founding member of an exclusive boys club down in Georgia. Started his secret society when he was in college and it just got more strategically powerful when his wife became Governor." He paused, "These are gay men so deep in the closet they've seen Pacific Spookfish. They're cover is their love of guns, so they get to hang out on hunting trips."

"But they don't just shoot a few rabbits. Some of these guys are in the business of import/export. They do private sales. They lobby behind the scenes for the NRA," added Oscar.

"Yeah," grimaced Zeke, "in their spare time, they play dress-up in Klansmen gear and hang out with their redneck cousins promoting hate, fear and paranoia. Hate so those fuckers keep buying guns; fear that the Second Amendment is under attack; and paranoia that anyone who advocates gun control is out to get them."

"So why kill Dent?" asked Quinn.

"Guess he stopped being useful," Huck shrugged.

"Dent liked his sex kinky and he was getting careless," Oscar added.

"If that's the connection between Langston and Dent, why did Langston go after Liv?" Harrison quizzed.

"That's the million-dollar question," Zeke muttered.

* * *

Cyrus Beene was waiting on the steps of the White House, with the WH Counsel, the Counsel to the President and US Secretary of State, all wearing their Valentine's Day party gear.

"Madam Vice President," Cyrus said as Sally stepped out of the car.

"Cyrus," Sally glanced at the men, "Are we going to complete the formalities out here? My becoming President?"

"_Acting_ President," Cyrus emphasised, glancing at the Secretary of State, who said,

"With DC Harbour police still searching for you husband, do you really want the added stress of being in charge?"

"There are others who don't have their spouses swimming in the Potomac who might be more suited to taking on the role, while Fitz is in hospital," added Cyrus.

Sally turned her attention from Cyrus to the Secretary of State. "The whole purpose of agreeing that I should take over executive powers the moment the President becomes incapacitated is to avoid a repeat of happened when Fitz was shot. This country was in limbo while he was in a coma."

"The First Lady took front and centre of that entire episode," the White House counsel said diffidently.

"The _former_ First Lady," the counsel to the President clarified.

"Yes, of course," the White House counsel agreed quickly.

Ignoring this exchange, Sally powered on. "We have a country to run, and Fitzgerald Grant needs to be able recuperate without matters of state interfering with his medical treatment. And it is obvious that he is far more concerned with the welfare of his family, particularly that of his wife, the new Mrs Grant."

"Yes, he doesn't have your nerves of steel. Husband missing but it's business as usual," muttered Cyrus.

"I would rather have work as a distraction than sit home, waiting for the phone to ring with inevitable bad news."

* * *

Olivia woke to find Fitz staring at her.

She smiled sleepily, touching his jaw with gentle fingertips. "Why aren't you asleep?"

Fitz tightened his hold around her. "Your father is right, Liv."

She frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Rowan was right when he said you didn't sign up to this. I nearly lost you last night... I don't want you to live like this. I don't want _us_ to live like this."

She sat up. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, you're not quitting, Fitz."

"Livvie, I don't want to take any more chances. Not when it comes to you or the kids. This job isn't worth it. If Sally Langston wants to be President so badly, let her have it. If the American people want to have her as President, let them have her. I just want my family safe. I want _you_ safe, Liv."

"What happens to your family if Sally Langston becomes President? When they start selling guns in supermarkets and banning contraceptives and sex education in school? She'll promote the standard Republican agenda: lower minimum wage, tax breaks for the rich, and legislated intolerance for anyone different—!"

Fitz stopped her with a kiss, gently teasing her lips to pacify her. "We don't have to talk about this now."

She drew back, and settled down on his chest, muttering fiercely, "You're not quitting!"

Fitz rumbled a sigh, quietly stroking her back.

* * *

The FBI director and the Secretary for Homeland Security arrived with the morning nurse. They waited until the usual checks were done and the nurse had left before reporting their findings.

"We didn't find anything on the aircraft, any of the aircraft at Joint Base Andrews, sir."

"And the sniffer dogs and sweeper guys didn't find anything at your home in Vermont either."

Fitz glanced at Olivia, who was gripping his hand. "So that was a lie?"

"We checked the Vice President's, uh acting President's, communications from her office and residence," the FBI director continued. "There was only one call, incoming, the day she left for Georgia. The call was from a cell phone registered to a Cassidy Langston."

"Sally's daughter," Fitz muttered.

"So she did have a family emergency," Olivia frowned.

"We have a recording of that conversation, as part of our routine surveillance," said the Homeland Security chief. "The daughter was rounded up with about twenty other students in a drug and alcohol bust on campus. We've learnt that the Vice President used her contacts to get her daughter released, with all charges dropped."

"So Daniel Douglas Langston was playing mind games with Olivia." Fitz slid his arm around Olivia and brought her close. "Has he been found?"

"No, sir."

"We're checking the shoreline. His body could have washed up anywhere along the river in three states."

* * *

**Breaking News**

…_The Vice President's husband, believed drowned, has been found alive and in a stable condition this morning. Daniel Douglas Langston was brought ashore on board a fishing boat. The owner said he'd gone out on a private search and rescue mission after hearing about the accident on the news._

"…_I was at the Marina, making sure my boat was secure against the bad weather, when I heard about the accident. I jumped back in my boat and joined the search party because I know these river currents like the back of my hand. Turns out I was right too. I saw this guy floating on the water like a piece of garbage. Yeah, he's lucky I saw him. And even luckier I know a thing or two about cold water immersion injuries. Gave him some of my best moonshine too…"_

* * *

Daniel Douglas Langston lay propped up in bed, at Number One Observatory Circle; with Sally beside him, holding his hand.

"He really should go to a hospital," said the White House doctor, straightening up after listening to Daniel's chest.

"I'm fine," Daniel patted Sally's hand. Then he turned his attention to the Police chief and FBI director waiting in the background. "I understand you have questions for me?"

"I do feel this should wait until the morning, Daniel," Sally gave his hand a tight squeeze. "And with the question of your safety paramount in my mind, I would think you would be more comfortable at the White House medical unit."

"I'd feel safer, in _my_ mind, sleeping in our own bed," He patted the double bed in the guest bedroom. "I'm sure I will be perfectly fine, with all those damned fine-looking nurses, checking up on me all night, and our trusted special agents on guard."

As Sally pursed her lips, the police chief drew up a chair and sat next to the bed. "Can you tell us what happened, Mr Langston. From the moment you left Georgia."

"Actually start from the time you and Mrs Langston left DC," said the FBI director.

Daniel glanced at Sally, then looked at the two men. "Excuse me gentlemen, much as I would like expedite this situation. I feel the need to call my attorney."

"You are not under arrest," said the chief of police.

"I would like to keep it that way."

"Let me make the call," Sally said quickly, getting to her feet and leaving the room. She returned almost an hour later with Daniel's attorney and his team. After a brief consultation with his client, the attorney allowed the questions to resume.

"To repeat the question, what made you leave DC?"

"Sally got a call from our daughter, Cassidy. She's a party girl, but she had a bad run. Got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. She used her one phone call to let us know she was in trouble. Sally was concerned that she'd be kicked out of school, if the press got hold of the story and the news went viral. So we went down to Georgia to speak to a few people and clear up the whole mess. After that, Sally didn't want to return to DC, so I came back alone."

"Why didn't Mrs Langston return to DC with you?"

"Now I don't want to speak out of turn, so I'll let my wife answer that."

"I felt my daughter, Cassie, needed a bit of TLC. I didn't feel it was appropriate to abandon her in her hour of need, so I could attend a party at the White House."

"And what happened after you got to the White House?"

"I needed to speak to Olivia Pope."

"For what purpose, Mr Langston?"

"For the same reason half of the guys on Capitol Hill have seen her. She's a crisis manager. I had a crisis. So I asked one of the agents in the car to get Olivia; I wanted to have a word with her in private."

"What was the crisis?"

"It's confidential."

"This is an official investigation involving the First Lady's safety."

Daniel shifted, looking towards his legal team. "I'd like a word with my attorney."

There was a whispered conference, then the lawyers drew back and the other men resumed their seats as Langston continued, "I had been informed by a reliable source that one of Fitzgerald Grant's political allies was involved in a murder, in my home state of Georgia."

The police chief looked at the FBI director. "Not my jurisdiction."

"What murder?" The FBI director took over the questioning.

"The murder of Patrick Dent. I was sent undercover surveillance footage by an anonymous source. The video shows Dent being forcibly taken from his home by Zeke's men including his partner Oscar and Olivia Pope's associates were in a vehicle across the street. The two female associates later approached Dent's wife, and got her to take the children and clear out of the house. That would explain why Dent was found alone at the time he was murdered. He was the prosecutor in the case involving The Guns for Freedom Alliance and the President Fitzgerald Grant III."

There was a silence, the FBI director said,"That case was found in favour of the President. Why would his allies want the prosecuting attorney dead?"

"Dent threw the case. I saw it, guess the Senator saw it too."

"Why was the tape sent to you?"

"Now how would I know that when I don't know who the darned hell sent it to me."

"Where's the tape?"

"In the safe, in Sally's study."

"Mrs Langston, are you aware of this tape?"

Sally turned her wide-eyed gaze from Daniel to the FBI director. "I can assure you that I most certainly do not. My husband uses that safe more than I do."

"Why didn't you turn the tape over to the authorities?"

Again there was a brief pause and a whispered conference, then Langston resumed speaking, "There were matters of national security involved."

There was a pin-dropping silence, then the FBI director muttered, "What happened in the car?"

"I heard a gunshot."

"You're sure it was a gun shot?"

"Yeah, I hunt. I collect guns. I know the difference between a gunshot and tyre blowout."

"Then what happened?"

"After the gun shot, we took a dive."

"Are you saying the car went off the edge after the gunshot?"

"Yes."

"Did you advise the First Lady that she shouldn't travel to Vermont for the safety of herself and the President?"

"No, why would I do that?"

"Did you tell her that she shouldn't trust the Secret Service?"

Daniel Langston allowed himself a wry smile. "Now why would I make an insane accusation like that?"

"Did you tell here there was a secret organisation that was paying to turn the agents against the President because of his stand on gun control?"

"I have no idea why Mrs Grant is making those accusations against me, unless it's to distract us from what's really going on. I think you folks need to find out if her husband, the President of the United States, sanctioned the murder of a Federal Prosecutor. And if the First Lady, or First Fiancee as she was at the time, helped pass on that informal Executive Order."

* * *

Cyrus Beene ran down the corridors of the hospital and burst into the room, startling the nurse who was checking Olivia's temperature.

"Sir!" The woman glared at him. "Please leave! Visiting hours don't start for another hour."

Ignoring the nurse completely, Cyrus gasped, groaned and abruptly collapsed to the floor.

"Dammit!" The nurse pushed the emergency alert to the nurses' station, then thrust herself between Fitz and Olivia who'd rushed to check on Cyrus.

"Stay back! It looks like this man is having a heart attack…!"

* * *

**Breaking Local News…**

"…_Olivia Pope Associates, the crisis management firm, is in crisis itself today when all of its associates were taken into custody by agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, in cooperation with DC police. No official statement has been released to the media, but our sources say the arrests are in connection with the kidnapping of murdered US attorney Patrick Dent. Mr Dent was the federal prosecutor in The Guns for Freedom Alliance v Fitzgerald Grant III in the state of Georgia last month…"_

**Breaking National News…**

"…_Senator Lucas Zeke of Georgia is seen here being taken from a DC hotel with his assistant Oscar Zidambe in police custody. Senator Zeke who was tipped to be a strong candidate for a seat in Congress. His assistant has been arrested on charges relating to the kidnapping and murder of US attorney Patrick Dent. Mr Dent was the Federal Prosecutor in the case of The Guns for Freedom Alliance and the President Fitzgerald Grant III. It's believed the arrests were made after Federal investigators received surveillance footage from an unnamed but reportedly reliable source…"_

**Breaking World News…**

"…_It's a bloodless coup that didn't involve the military, in the country that claims to be the world's greatest democracy. Acting President Sally Langston has invoked section 4 of the Twenty Fifth Amendment in the United States Constitution. She has written to the Speaker of the House, claiming support from the majority of the United States Cabinet that the President is mentally unstable and therefore unfit to discharge his duties. She is petitioning to remain Commanding Officer of the United States until elections are held later this year..."_

* * *

**A/N: Warning: Please stop reading from here if you don't want to wade through another one of my rants! (A bit late to the party, as I took so long to finish this chapter!)**

**So this note is about the comments I've been leaving on DayDreamLover and BellaDameNoir's stories (which are great: FANTASTIC WRITERS, LOVE THEM!). **

**My comments were about the direction of the actual show and how everyone has been bagging the Olivia character (mainly), and to a lesser extent - Fitz. **

**Olivia and Fitz are **_**written by Scandal Writers**_**, they don't write their own dialogue/actions. For instance some of you hate Felicia and Rowan in this story – blame ME, I write them. Their portrayal is a reflection of my imagination, my writing, my editing, my limitations. They come across as overbearing because I make them overbearing. Real life people can control their personalities (if mentally able), fictional characters cannot (no matter how able!).**

**On the show, Olivia Pope comes across as a secondary, vacillating, bed-hopping hypocrite because **_**she is written**_** that way. What an absolute tragedy that this should happen. And to the actress that plays her. **

**When I think of all Kerry Washington did to get people to watch the show, and what an exemplary ambassador she is – brilliant, charming and kind (especially in her interactions with fans); that this should be her reward is heartbreaking to watch. **

**For those of you who believe this is **_**JUST A SHOW**_** – actually it's not. It's a vehicle of representation for those of us who are under-represented. And leaving aside the moral ambiguities of a true-love affair, we had a heroine worthy of respect with a valid claim to her own dignity (unusual), now she doesn't (not so unusual). **

**And if you don't think representation is important, ask Lupita's whitenicious fan or those who dare to dress up as Angel Coulby's Queen Guinevere on Halloween. **

**I've been reading that ABC did a 'bait-and-switch' on the teen show **_**Twisted**_** - getting people of colour to watch a show, that then focuses to a secondary character's angst – pretty much like switching the focus from Olivia to Mellie on **_**Scandal**_**. Lazy story-telling probably, but why are 2-minute commercials doing better at positive representative than 1-hour shows? **

**Olivia Pope was a 'badass' **_**WOMAN**_** of colour, someone who wore a business suit, instead of a cape (and didn't spin webs or jump tall buildings) – much more achievable. A **_**WOMAN**_** who was **_**LOVED**_**, not simply desired for sexual gratification. Can **_**we**_** as an audience afford to see all that destroyed? **

**Note: the bait and switch is to women that we're supposed to admire out of pity; female characters who are essentially strident mean-girls or snivelling twits. They are not women who are intelligent, strong or loved in their own right. (Anyone care for another serving of patriarchal misogyny between commercials?)**

**All I have to say about that is – ugh! **


	26. Taking Liberties

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm #100%**

**Dead-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

**World News Update**

* * *

"…_United States President Fitzgerald Grant III was removed from the highest office in the land by his deputy Vice President, Sally Langston last night. And we have a panel of experts to discuss this extraordinary situation. I mean extraordinary is an understatement. What exactly does this mean for the world?"_

"_We don't know what it means yet, but it's serious. That's why you've got representatives from foreign governments and major world organisations flying to Washington DC today. I understand the leaders of the IMF, World Bank, United Nations and member states in the NATO Alliance, EU and G20 have contacted the new Langston Administration, specifically to ask about the welfare of President Grant, or rather ex-President Grant and his family."_

"_But is this such a cause for concern? Australia gets rid of its democratically elected Prime Ministers with surprising regularity – and the country simply carries on. Surely it's not outside the realm of reality that it would be same for the United States?"_

"_Yes, it's true that Australia has 'sacked' for want of a better word, several sitting Prime Ministers without the benefit of a vote. The Governor General sacked the Whitlam government in 1975 creating a constitutional crisis. But there was less of a furore when Prime Minister Kevin Rudd's job was taken by his deputy Julia Gillard in 2010."_

"_But she herself was replaced."_

"_Yes, Prime Gillard's tenure as Australia's first female prime minister was short-lived when her nemesis Kevin Rudd took back his job in 2013. So it will be interesting to see if America's first female President shares the same fate as Ms Gillard."_

"_The other thing to keep in mind is that the United States has a much, much greater impact on the world than Australia. The United States is effectively the only remaining superpower. It has the largest single economy, and it has the largest and most influential financial market – 132 of the world's corporate giants call America home. "_

"_Not to mention, America also has the most number of active nuclear warheads…"_

"_So what I'm hearing is that the world can't afford to have the US play Pass-the-Parcel with its Presidents?"_

"_Essentially."  
_

* * *

Cyrus swatted the nurse away as she tried to take his pressure. "Go away!"

"Cy, just let her do her job," said James, who was rocking Ella back and forth in her pram.

"I am fine! I keep telling everyone I am fine! I had a panic attack. But if people keep fussing around me I just might have that heart attack that you want to prevent!"

He glared at the nurse. She looked at him with stoic impassivity.

"Mr Beene, I need to check your blood pressure, and I will check your blood pressure. Now give me your arm. I haven't got all day."

After a moment, Cyrus held out his arm with bad grace, and the nurse completed her work without comment.

After the nurse had departed, Cyrus turned his glare from the closing door back to James. "Get me a wheelchair, I need to see Fitz."

"You can't see Fitz. I tried. The Secret Service Agents won't let me through. They're taking they're orders from Sally Langston."

"That damned woman!" Cyrus gritted his teeth, "I cannot believe she has him effectively under house arrest in a _hospital_!

"One of the agents did mutter that he was being moved to a secure facility, location classified."

"Why isn't the Attorney General taking action on this?! I need you to contact people – constitutional lawyers, the ACLU – gah!"

"Breathe," James soothed as Cyrus exploded with rage. "No seriously, breathe. I don't want to be a single dad."

* * *

Felicia faced the chief usher and said firmly, "I will not let the children be moved to Blair House."

"Ma'am, I'm only following orders from the Vice President, the uh acting President. She believes it would be best for all concerned, as in it would be safer, if they moved."

"They will be safe here. I will make sure of it," Felicia said. "A move now would just add to the anxiety they feel at being separated from their parents. I'm happy to make explain this in great detail to Mrs Langston."

The usher gave her a small smile. "That will not be necessary, ma'am. I will pass on your message."

Half an hour later, Felicia found herself facing Sally Langston in the Oval Office.

"Ms Adams," Sally said remaining seated in her chair as Felicia remained standing. "The reason I asked the children to be moved to Blair House is because my husband is recuperating. It would be less stressful for him and more convenient for me if he were at the White House, then I can keep a close watch on his wellbeing."

Felicia gave Sally a serene smile. "This is the White House, there are 25 bedrooms. There's plenty of room for your husband as well as the children, Mrs Langston. So I see no need to have the children moved. It is unnecessary to disrupt their routines for a few days while this matter is resolved."

"Ms Adams, I can assure you this will take more than a few days and even then the resolution may prove that a move is inevitable!" Sally snapped.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Sally took a deep breath, and affected an icy smile. "Ms Adams, I feel it would be in the best interest of all concerned, if the children are moved to a secure establishment – which is not far from the White House – while their father remains in hospital."

"How long do you intend for their father to remain in hospital?"

"I assure you that has nothing to do with me. The doctors will need to test Fitzgerald Grant's mental fitness."

"I see. In that case, it is vital for the children to remain where they feel safe and nurtured. You may be acting President, but with an election looming I don't think even you can afford the sight of screaming, crying children being forcibly moved to Blair House."

Sally looked at Felicia, then said abruptly, "Thank you, Ms Adams. I will consider your request."

* * *

**National News Update (panel of experts)**

"…_Isn't section 4 of the 25__th__ Amendment usually invoked when the President of the United States is under sedation?"_

"_Yes, President George Bush invoked it when he had a colonoscopy. He transferred Presidential powers to Vice President Dick Chaney for about an hour, while he was under sedation."_

"_From what I understand President Fitzgerald Grant is only under observation at George Washington university Hospital. He was never under sedation."_

"_Yes, but remember the time he was shot and in a coma. The current changes were made to avoid a repeat of having the Commander-in-chief's office in limbo for any length of time."_

"_That's right, after there were doubts as to when the President actually regained consciousness."_

"_Doubts, what doubts? Do you mean those rumours on Capitol Hill?"_

"_The point is that the disability clause is now invoked whenever the President is admitted to hospital."_

"_Under this Constitutional amendment, the President can invoke the clause if he does not feel able to do the job."_

"_Or the Vice President can do the same, with the majority - in this case- of the United States Cabinet, if the President is unfit to carry to his duties."_

"_President Grant is due to be released from hospital tomorrow. All he has to do is write to the Speaker of the House that he's fit to resume his duties, right?"_

"_Actually no, the acting President then has four days to repeat the initial process of writing another letter, with the majority of Cabinet, saying essentially they don't believe President Grant is fit to govern."_

"_And Congress has 21 days to decide on who should be President, one way or another._

"_Actually there needs to be two thirds of the vote in both houses agreeing that President Grant is not fit to resume his duties."_

"_And if Congress doesn't decide in 21 days?"_

"_President Grants gets his job back."_

* * *

Senate Majority Leader Edison Davis stared at the Senate Minority Leader in disbelief. "So wait, let me get this straight, we're being asked to support this action to have the President of the United States declared mentally unfit due to post-traumatic stress disorder?"

"Just consider the facts, Ed. That's what I did – the guy's been through hell and back in the last few months. He was shot, he ended up in a coma, then he upped and divorced his wife. Yeah, that still blows my mind, a sitting president getting a divorce right before an election year. The first ever Presidential divorce in our nation's history! Hell, I reckon that bullet that went through his brain did far more damage that we all realised."

"In your expert opinion?" Edison said dryly.

"I don't need to be an expert to know something's wrong with the guy. He divorces his wife, then she gets murdered. Then he gets married a couple of months later, and the new wife almost drowns on their wedding day. That's enough to drive any sane man crazy." The Minority Leader glanced at Edison. "You know her, right? The new Mrs Grant? You two were a thing?"

"Yes, Olivia and I go way back. We're friends."

"Still friends, even after she threw you over for the President?"

"We're friends," Edison repeated firmly.

"Does that mean you're going to fight us on getting this through the Senate?"

"Us? He's your President, man."

"The way he's been acting lately, we've been thinking the real President Grant's been kidnapped by a Democratic stand-in. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?" The man guwaffed.

"A man is about to lose his career. It's not funny."

"I sure as heck agree. I stopped laughing the minute the man attacked the Second Amendment, then went after the guys who butter my bread. Yeah, the guy's turning into a Socialist and if declaring him crazy is the only way to get him locked up, I'm all for it."

"I get it now."

"So you in?"

"I'll wait for the medical report."

* * *

Olivia paced her room, glaring at the FBI director. "Where have they taken Fitz?"

"I can't tell you, ma'am. I can assure you that he'll be safe. We moved him because Hospital Administration asked us to do that. They didn't feel the hospital would be the most secure facility to house the President while he was getting his psyche evaluation."

"Who is doing the assessment?"

"A qualified clinical psychologist from the White House Office of Science and Technology, that's at the request of acting President Sally Langston. The Secretary of State has requested a second opinion from a military psychologist recommended by the President of the Society for Military Psychology, someone who treats military personnel coming off active duty; and the US Attorney General has requested a third opinion from a therapist referred by the American Psychological Association board directors."

"I want their names."

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a pause at a knock on the door, followed by the entry of Rowan Pope, accompanied by the President's counsel, the senior partner in Fitz's personal legal team, and Sameera Hussein.

Rowan's gaze quickly darted to Olivia. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Olivia managed a brief smile, then turned her attention to Sameera. "Thank you for being here at such short notice. I'm sorry, your DC holiday was interrupted for this."

Sameera reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm just here to take notes, the others will be doing the 'heavy lifting'."

"Has my daughter been advised of her rights?" Rowan asked.

"Yes, sir," said the FBI director, glancing at his colleagues who'd been silent throughout the conversations in the room, and on receiving a nod, he directed his attention back to Olivia and the new arrivals.

"Ready to begin?"

* * *

**Local News Update**

"…_First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant was released from hospital early this morning with a clean bill of health. Sources say she left the hospital in the care of her father and a family friend. Sources say Mrs Pope-Grant assisted the FBI yesterday, with their investigation into the kidnapping and murder of US attorney Patrick Dent. But neither the FBI nor the White House has released an official statement. Mrs Pope-Grant was still under medical observation at the time._

"_In related news, Federal Judge Claudette Liston from the State of Georgia has made an official statement to the FBI regarding the kidnapping of her grand-daughter. The incident took place during the hearing for a preliminary injunction against President Grant's Executive Order on Gun Safety. At the time, news network XYZ in Georgia reported that Mr Dent's body was found, after Atlanta Police arrived at his house to arrest him on charges of kidnapping and obstruction of justice._

"_Now Atlanta authorities say they have no record of those charges. We've been told by XYZ that the archived footage of the news report has gone missing, and the four men who were reportedly helping authorities with the Liston kidnapping, were found dead in their cells this morning, apparent victims of a brawl that has the prison in lockdown._

"_But we have evidence to support Judge Liston's claims. This morning we received an email with a video link to recordings made of Dent's conversations at the time of the kidnapping. The footage also show him threatening physical harm to male sexual partner. A copy of the video had been presented as evidence for Dent's arrest, but authorities claim this evidence has been lost. The link has now been posted on our Facebook page…_

"_**Breaking news…**_

"… _This just in, Acting President Sally Langston has declared martial law. That's right martial law on the democratic nation of the United States. She has suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus. The writ allows people who are unlawfully imprisoned to be freed through a court proceeding. Suspending the writ effectively means this civil liberty has been suspended, along with civil liberties relating to the freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures, freedom of association and freedom of movement…"_

* * *

**A/N: So I have had a lot of fun the last couple of days – I have entered the world of Tumblr – YAASSSS! I will now officially log out of real life because I am living in Tumblrland (hmm, maybe I need to reduce my Internet plan – what? No!)**

**BTW, this came about because I had rant part 2 for two of my reviewers, and I figured rather than making an ongoing saga about it, I'll just open a blog and direct traffic there… **

**So check it out .com – yes, I'm a maniac because there was ScandalMania already – a Japanese teen band (wonder if they watch Scandal?). I could have gone with Tumblr suggestion I-scandalmania (but that sounded a bit imperious, or a bit I-robot)**

**Anyway, Janet – you are 'Reader' on that blog. And Lovescandal1, you are 'Reader #2'. I wasn't sure how you would feel about seeing your names on Tumblr, but THANK YOU for your comments (you have given me A NEW HOBBY!)**

**And this is what I didn't write on there in detail: The other thing is Lovescandal1 , DON'T ABANDON your stories –I've been reading **_**Discovering Me**_** and I sincerely hope you continue to write that story! Good stuff! ;))))**

**And to all my other reviewers – THANK YOUUUUUUU! Glad you liked the plot twists ;))) – and thank you for encouraging us FF writers to write for the show but I have to say I like autonomy. I'm not sure Scandal Writers have that; last minute editing that puts a different slant to what I intended would drive me NUTS! Again thank you so much for reading ;)))**

**I will post more responses to comments on the blog, after I finish a couple of assignments for uni!**


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